


High Stakes

by Lafeae



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Card games but not duel monsters, Drama, Eventual Romance, Gambling, M/M, Prideshipping, Smut, Wet Dream, will update tags as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-06-15 15:18:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15415827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lafeae/pseuds/Lafeae
Summary: Seto Kaiba is the absolute personification of a gambler, willing to risk anything for the next win. But lately, it’s become boring. Meaningless.And then Yami walks into his life.“How much would you risk for a thrill?” Yami asks him.Kaiba didn’t think the cryptic and alluring Yami would send his life spiralling out of control, in all the right ways.Yami didn’t think he would have been so curious of the enigma that Kaiba was that he would allow himself to be bought.This would be fun.—AU, prideshipping, dark themesHIATUS





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I work in a casino, and this AU has been hounding at me to be written. I’m experimenting, too, by asking random coworkers various questions that may shape the plot along the way, so some of this may be an odd adventure. 
> 
> Another thing: prideshipping is something I’m being pulled into slowly, and I haven’t written this ship for about.....eight years? So bear with me, and enjoy.

A standard poker table weighed close to two hundred pounds. Any sensible man would know better than to try and flip it—but Yami knew that gamblers weren't what he would deem as 'sensible people'.

The entire poker room fell into a quiet din as a rainbow array of ceramic chips flew down and clattered soft, like rain on tile, in the far corner of the room.

The oblong table sat on its side, the rubber railing falling last, hanging just beside a terrified dealer, hands up and palms out. "Floor! Security!" She screeched.

Yami watched as a blond, brutish man wearing an American flag bandanna was rounding the table.

"You sonuvabitch!"

The distance ringing and bell-whistles of a slot machine broke the silence. Hushed murmurs swept through the room. The steady 'clink' of chips began again. Eyes tore away from the scene, back to their respective poker games, ignoring the upturned table, now surrounded by security and two different men in three piece suits.

But Yami hadn't stalled his stare. His head cocked to the side, solely interested in the chestnut haired man, the other occupant of the overturned table, who had moved just enough—an inch away, and no more—to prevent the table from crushing the toe of his polished dress shoes. As if he was challenging the table to hurt him, and instinct took over.

Yami wouldn't have been surprised. He looked so...bored by the chaos. By the man shouting in his face, held back by two security guards. By the terrified dealer, knelt down on the floor trying to pick up the mess of the poker chip well that had once been on the table. By the security guards and brushes who were picking up _his_ chips while he didn't help.

"'Ey, Yami," an accented voice asked. "Yami?"

A hand tapped in front of the spiky-haired man sitting at the far end of the table. Yami looked to Joey instead and raised a brow. "I'm sorry?"

"Call or fold," the dealer blandly repeated, and from the look on her face, it hadn't been the first time.

It was strange, Yami thought, as his eyes swept over the room for the third time, how little stopped on the floor after the chaos. The quiet lasted for only three seconds, he couldn't even count his heartbeats, before all the noise began again. Dealers hadn't stopped chucking out cards, pots of chips never stopped being raked up, and players barely batted an eye to the cacophony that, in any other place, would stop all function and leave bystanders rubbernecking.

Such was the way of the people who surrounded him, Yami mused. The sensibly insensible, the regular irregulars, the people who's eyes looked too old and forlorn when their faces seemed to be young and bright.

 _Gamblers are a mess_ , Yami thought, mirthful. _But it takes one to know one._

Yami didn't even consult the community of cards that had been revealed in the center of the table; he hadn't looked at his cards, even once, after they had been dealt.

The cards were pushed towards the dealer. "Fold," he announced. Eyes met with Joey's, for the briefest of moments, as the blond smiled widely and threw another chip towards the pot to call on the bet. 

Yami turned his attention back to the chestnut haired man, eyes squinting in familiarity, and slouched his shoulders when the man swept around, sunglasses pulled up on top of his head.

Dark blue eyes bore into Yami's, caught staring, but Yami didn't falter. He rested his chin on his hand, grinning, until the blue eyes looked down to the floor by Yami's feet. Turning his head down, Yami saw that there was a single, purple, over-sized poker chip with '$500' printed on it and laying by his boot.

Reaching down, Yami plucked up the chip, and displayed it to the man.

 _Yours?_ Yami asked, head tilted.

 _Who else?_ Came a raise of the blue-eyed man's brow.

The blue eyed man turned on his heel, pivoting away from the mess and crossing the room and skirting around he other players who paid little mind to him, though they did stare at clear chip rack tucked in the crook of his elbow, which had many of the oversized, purple chips, along with a mess of orange and black chips as well.

Cards were thrown out to all the players on Yami's table, and he noted that Joey had swept up the pot from the last round.

As expected. They could separate their seats, but never stop them from working together.

Yami's palm covered his cards, but he never looked, only thumbed the corners. A round of 'check' came from table, and it was only then did the tri-coloured haired man feel a body lurking behind him.

"You have something of mine," a deep, gravelled voice said.

"Do I?"

The purple chip spun beneath Yami's pointer finger.

"You do."

"Do you want it back?"

"Why else would I be over here?"

A round of betting, and someone in the group was eager as the flop, the first three cards in the community, was revealed. He raised the bet to $25. Four members immediately folded. Yami, without consulting the cards still, flicked the purple chip out from beneath his finger and watched it roll to the centre pot and land atop the others.

"How dare you?" The blue eyed man hissed. His hand landed on Yami's shoulder.

Joey blanched, and folded his hand. "Yami what the—?"

"Courtesy of my new friend here," said Yami, and he looked up to the blue eyed stranger.

"Ain't no one friends with this jackass," Joey sneered.

Of the rows of curious eyes, there was man across from Yami who began pushing stacks of red and green chips in. "All in."

"That is my money," the blue eyed man said, low. Yami has to lean back in his seat to hear him. “You have no idea who you're fucking with right now."

"Do you not trust me?" Yami asked.

"No, you didn't look at your cards."

A wide smile broke over Yami's face. "Just watch."

Yami's cards were flipped over, alongside the other man's, and set out against the flop. The turn came, and then the river.

"Pair of sixes. Seat 8 wins,” the dealer said, and the pot of chips was pushed over to Yami.

The mess of chips were stacked into short towers with delicate speed, and only after did Yami look back to the blue eyed man that stared him down. At least he didn't look bored anymore.

The hand on Yami's shoulder tightened, pulling at his shirt. He leaned in, lips to Yami's ear. "Get up from the table. Now."

"My new friend and I need to talk," Yami said. He slid out his chair, all but the purple chip remaining on the table. “I’ll be back.” 

"If this asshole does anything..." Joey warned.

"I'll be fine, Joey. Thanks," Yami said. "I'm just grabbing a drink. You want anything?"

Joey shook his head, eyes wary on the blue eyed man.

The pair walked out of the poker room, through a quick succession of table games, a roulette ball rattling against the pegs, until they reached an open space, several restaurants built side-by-side. They walked down a set of stairs that led to a long bar.

"So," Yami said, sliding onto the barstool. "Who am I 'fucking with' as you say? Who's money did I just gamble?"

"Kaiba."

"Kaiba?" Yami asked, his head tilting. "As in _the_ Seto Kaiba?"

"Yes, now, for the matter of my chip—"

"This?" The purple chip was plucked out, set on the bar surface, and slid over towards Kaiba, Yami's finger pressing it down. "You can have it back. I’m not a thief, I promise. Just...tell me something first, Seto Kaiba. What did you have more fun doing tonight? Playing alone with that man you just riled up, or watching me carelessly throw your money away?"

"As if that's even a question."

"Oh, but it is," Yami said. He felt the blue eyes regard him, head to toe, questioning every fibre of his being. Sneering at how dressed down he was in a tank top and black jeans, arms covered in leather bangles. Blue eyes squinted when they met violet ones, perhaps even questioning the kohl that lined Yami’s wine coloured eyes. "Well?"

"You expect an answer?" Kaiba asked. Yami shrugged. Kaiba's lips twitched, and he looked down to the chip before scoffing. "Fine, whatever, you can keep it if you want it so damn bad. I don't care."

"Strange. You seemed so upset about me having it before," Yami said. "Not that you tried very hard to stop me from using it."

"I tried. You didn't listen. Instead you decided to risk it in the most ignorant way possible."

"Mm, you could have tried harder to stop me. Called the floor over, told them I stole it. But you didn’t. So, I wonder: it's not the money that matters that much to you, is it?"

"Of course the money matters it—"

"But you just said I could take this," Yami said, wiggling the chip. "You care, on principle, because it's yours. But not for its value. The money is meaningless. I ask again: which did you have more fun with, your game or mine?"

Kaiba's teeth grit, lips pulling back, though they flinched closed, staring at the chip under Yami's finger.

"You’re being ridiculous."

Yami laughed. "Aren't we all a little bit?"

"You’re being cryptic."

"It's just a question," Yami said. He could hear Kaiba growling, and the glare he was given could have melted steel. "If you ask me, I'd say it was my game."

"Tch, please. There's was little stake in your game. Twenty-five dollars scared everyone shitless. I would die of boredom in your game."

"If you played normally," said Yami. "But I don't."

"I can tell. Going completely blind and betting someone else's money,” Kaiba scoffed. “It's crazy."

Yami smiled, and the chip was flicked over to Kaiba. "It's thrilling. Isn't that what you're looking for? A thrill? How much would you risk for a thrill?” 

"I have enough money to buy a thrill," Kaiba said.

"Do you? Does it buy you the thrill of someone flipping a table on you?" Yami asked. "Did that even register with you? Were you afraid, or were you thinking, perhaps gambling to yourself, on whether or not that table was going to hit you?"

"That's not a thrill, that's an ER visit,” Kaiba deadpanned. “Why would I want to gamble on a table hitting me?"

Yami shrugged. "You tell me."

"This conversation is going no where," Kaiba said and swept up the purple chip. "And it's now over. You're boring me."

Yami's head ticked to the side, and he watched as Kaiba stood up from the barstool.

"If you ever want to ease your boredom, you know where to find me," Yami called as Kaiba walked away.

Amidst the twang of slot machines and the sea of voices, Yami could hear the exact moment that Seto Kaiba stopped walking, and he could feel the imperial blue eyes burning into the back of his head.

No, gamblers were not sensible people. And Seto Kaiba, Yami mused, seemed to be the absolute personification of a gambler. Willing to risk everything to win. 

This would be fun.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dealers at my work are sorta eager to help with details, it seems. So I suppose that I can make this a little quicker than I planned. Not sure how regularly, but I’ll give it whirl. 
> 
> There are a lot of little details I have a hard time not putting in, such as the jargon we use in reference to tables, games, chips, and players that don’t really have a place, but they may arise occasionally. If you’re every confused, let me know. 
> 
> Onwards!

Hot breath fogged up the car window next to Yami's face, and he continued until it completely covered his darkened reflection. Off to the side, Joey's profile was still visible, focused on the road ahead. With his fingernail, Yami began to carve out a circle in the fog.

"Ya been awful quiet," Joey said. He reached over and turned down the radio. "Moneybags say somethin' to ya?"

"No. Nothing special." Two small dots were added towards the top of the circle, as well as squiggled, messy lines where his bangs were reflected. The fog began to disappear, and Yami breathed on it again to expand his canvas.

"Ya sure? You an' him were gone for a minute."

"It wasn't anything serious." Yami retraced the lines he had made before. "I just returned the chip to him, that's all."

"Oh good, so that means I don't gotta worry 'bout savin' ya from him kickin' your ass to get it back?" Joey asked. They pulled up to a red light, and the blond took that moment to look over at Yami. "I know I can be the muscle, but goin' toe to toe with that asshole? No thanks..."

Yami chuckled, and his fingernail swooped in an arc to make a smile on the face, though he was sure the reflection underneath was opposite. "You don't have to worry about saving me, Joey. Everything's been worked out. Kaiba seemed..." _sensible? No, not quite,_ Yami paused in thought, his finger hovering above the fog drawing, trying to come up with a better word, "level-headed about it."

"Pfft, yeah, level-headed? Whatever. People like him? With more money than they know what t' do with? Nothin' 'bout them kind of people is 'level headed'. Didja see how he reacted to a table bein' flipped on him? He didn't! Who doesn't react? An' what kind of person makes someone else mad enough t' flip a table? Ya know what? Strike that, I'd flip a table on that rich asshole..."

The meandering of grumbled complaints became inaudible, until Joey was chewing on his cheek and flicking his eyes towards the silent occupant in his car every few seconds or so. While Yami listened to Joey and smiled in amusement at his commentary, he said nothing in response. It wasn't unusual for there to be only the radio between him and Joey. Not after they'd spent a night around a poker table, their throats scratchy from too much bullshit talk and burned from bottom shelf drinks. But Yami knew he was leaving a palpable silence while his finger dragged along the edges of the fog drawing, squealing when he pressed a bit too hard.

It wasn't as if it had been a bad night, in fact, all around it had been exceptional. Throughout the course of the night, between the two of them, they had raked in a little more than a thousand dollars. Once they cashed out, it was split up evenly, because they both knew the game wouldn't have worked if they both weren't participating. It was a quiet ruse that they had concocted, and not one that always worked, but for most nights, they came out ahead, even if it was only twenty dollars.

Yami was the silent partner, the observant one, 'the enigma' as Joey had once said, because of his strange manner of playing. He never looked at the cards dealt to him and, seemingly, betted at random. Other players couldn't read him, and their intense scrutiny and, often, total surprise, made them slip instead. Joey, on the other hand, was loud and talkative. He drew attention, and was often chatty to the point of annoyance, drawing out any tells from others players, which Yami picked up on. They liked their con—it was just inaccurate enough that no one could tell what they were doing.

But tonight, Yami knew, their money had all the thanks to do with Seto Kaiba and his miraculous purple chip. The money was as wonderful as it was heavy in his pocket, and thus, he wondered how much he owed he man, paid in whatever thrill it was that Kaiba needed. It quelled most of Yami's excitement.

"More importantly," Joey said, breaking up the renewed silence, "asshat din't get ya booted from the place."

"Ah, the true reason for your worry about me." Yami turned to Joey. The blond had a brow raised. "Losing your partner in crime?"

"No!" Joey said, flustered. He made a sharp turn down a thin road. "Ya know that ain't what I meant. Don't act like you wouldn't be upset if ya couldn't go back! You're the one who dragged me in there, a'right?"

The tense quiet that Yami has displayed before was swept away in a fit of laughter hidden behind his wrist. "I know, I know. I'm kidding."

"So mean," Joey said, shaking his head and laughing. The car slowed as it pulled into a dead parking lot in front of dim-light storefront and parked. "What ya did there, that was fuckin' crazy."

"A little,"Yami said. "But it was fun."

"Yeah. Pretty damn fun. Shame we can't do more crazy stuff like that," Joey said with a contented sigh, the last of the laughter dying out of his chest. He killed the engine, and the passenger side door popped open.

"I think we'll get to do more crazy things," said Yami as he hopped from the car.

"Whatever man," Joey snorted. He stepped out of the car and slammed the door. "I'd be okay if things weren't that crazy but it still got us this much money. Can we do that?"

"Perhaps." A set of keys were fished from Yami's pocket, and the lock on the front door turned with a 'thunk'.

As soon as the door opened, Yami found his nose bombarded with the smell of garlic and basil. "Oh man...we ain't missed dinner yet!"

Joey nudged by Yami, running through the tight walkway that connected the cluttered and disorganised storefront to the living quarters in the back. Yami locked the door back and shimmied his way through, adjusting several displays Joey knocked askew as he shot upstairs. It came as no surprise that Yami heard Joey ask: "What're ya makin' Yug'?" as he ascended.

"Pasta," a soft voice answered. "You guys are back early."

"Yeah we are," Joey said. He collapsed into a chair around the kitchen table. "It was a weird night."

The double of Yami stood in front of the kitchen counter, slopping noodles onto a plate. Yugi assessed the two, especially his twin, and his face immediately filled with worry. "Is...that good or bad?"

Yami sighed. "I'm sorry, Yugi."

Large, violet eyes shook. "Oh, don't tell me you guys lost a lot. Yami we can't afford—"

Striding closer to Yugi, Yami dug in his pocket. "I'm sorry that you cooked dinner," he said, and he slipped the five hundred dollar bills out of his pocket, fanning them over the counter with his palm. "I had hoped to get home early enough so we could all go out."

The serving fork fell from Yugi's hand, and he stepped closer to the money, finger tentatively poking at it. "This is real? Like...you guys both really...?"

Both Yami and Yugi turned to Joey as he displayed the same bills that were folded in half over his fingers. "Yep. Real an' already burnin' a hole in my pocket."

"How?"

"How?" Joey asked. "How ya think?"

"I mean, I guess I know how, but...," Yugi said. His hands were twisting in one another.

"No need to worry. It was luck and nothing more," Yami assured.

"If you say so." Yugi replied. Two more plates were pulled out of the cabinet and set aside. The one already full was passed to Yami. "Take this to Gramps? I think he's napping."

"I'm already up. No need," Solomon replied, shuffling into the kitchen.

"Gramps!" Yugi inhaled a sharp breath, side-eyeing Yami, then looked to the money fanned on the counter. In a blur, Yami collected it and stuffed it into his pocket.

"I told you I would cook for you boys." The grey-haired man took a seat at the table across from Joey who, at the urge of a sharp glare from Yami, tucked the money away into his pocket.

"And I told you no. You need to take it easy," Yugi urged. The plate was taken from Yami and sat in front of Solomon.

"Oh well, I suppose," Solomon said. "The important thing is we're all eating together. And it sound like you're all having a fun night. What's got you all excited?"

Joey gritted his teeth through a smile, looking back at Yami before nodding, "Y-yeah. Loads o' fun. We uh...ya know, me an' Yami popped by the arcade a bit, an' I was jus' tryin' t' tell him he's wrong, ya know? I...I got think 'im beat this time. On the, you know, the uh one fightin' game, right?..."Joey rubbed the back of his head, sparing a glance to Yami who was shaking his head and, in turn, looked to Yugi searching for a better answer, coming up empty. "So uh, how ya been? Ain't seen ya in a few days," Joey recovered.

"Better than yesterday, not as good as tomorrow." Solomon pulled his plate closer. Another was set in front of Joey, and the blond was eager to start eating so he didn't have to talk.

The twins exhaled a breath together. The last thing they needed was for Joey to, in a fit of nervousness, expose what he and Yami actually did in a weekly basis. Until the time was right, if it ever was at all, Solomon wouldn't have to know.

"Take it easy, boy, you'll choke yourself," Solomon said. To which Joey started coughing, as if on cue, hand slapping against his chest. "Goodness, see?"

"I'm fine," Joey wheezed. And the pair began laughing.

Amidst the distraction, Yami had made up a plate, intending to drift away from the kitchen towards his bedroom. He made it halfway into the hallway before he felt a hand touch his elbow. Looking back, he knew it was Yugi, big eyes still full of worry.

"Everything's really okay? It was really that good of a night?" Yugi asked.

"Mm-hm."

"Just 'mm-hm?"

It was hard for Yami to ignore the shaking curiosity and begging, pointed like daggers, in Yugi's eyes. As if he could look right through his twin's soul. "It was a strange night, as Joey said. I suppose I made a new friend, in a way."

Yami drifted closer to the bedroom door, but the volume of Joey and Solomon's giddy conversation didn't seem to change. Neither did the sound of Yugi's shuffling feet.

"But?" Yugi asked.

"But what?"

"But what else?" Yugi pressed. "Something's happened with this 'new friend' hasn't it? Was it bad? Do we have to worry about someone coming after us? Look, Yami, I know we need money but..."

Yami shook his head. "Not at all," he said. "It was just a good night. Really."

"You know you can tell me anything," Yugi egged on.

Yami pressed forward, his hand on the knob of the door. "I know," he said, and laughed to himself. It didn't feel right to omit the truth from Yugi but, for the moment, he couldn't say if there was anything to tell. Not yet. "It's nothing, really."

"So this new friend isn't dangerous?"

Yami chewed over the thought. Was Kaiba dangerous? He didn't appear the sort that would resort to violence or underhanded tactics. He was upfront about what he wanted, even if his voice seemed chiselled out of anger. "I don't think so."

There was a ravenous twinkle in Yugi's eye, juxtaposed by the shaken fists clenched at his chest. He asked: "Do you think it will become something...?"

"Lucrative?" Yami asked, confident he was reading Yugi's mind. "Mm...I can't tell yet."

After a beat of silence, Yugi said: "I hope it does."

Though Yami wasn't sure if it would, given the very volatile nature that became of the short night, he couldn't help but feel the same way. It was a crapshoot at best but, that said, Kaiba's intense, blue eyes spoke to Yami. They lingered, heavy, every time he closed his eyelids. They were so empty yet, at the same time, so full of hunger and fire. Even if it became nothing, Yami still wanted to know what made Kaiba have such duality.

By the time he considered his twin's quiet wants, Yugi had already returned back to the kitchen and joined in the conversation with Joey and Solomon.

To himself, Yami murmured: "I do too."

—

"Welcome home, Master Kaiba."

The oak door closed on its own behind him, it's bass echoing heavy and deep throughout the expansive manor. From the foot of the stairs, Roland, Kaiba's ever faithful head-of-household and assistant, approached to take the master's coat from him as it slipped off his shoulders.

"Is Mokuba asleep?"

"He's turning in now."

"Good. He really should get more sleep." Kaiba started for the main staircase, his hands tucked into his pant's pockets. There, he could run his nail along the edge of the oversized purple chip he had stashed away as soon as he retrieved it from...the stranger. Kaiba cursed himself for not getting the spikey-haired man's name, especially after proffering his.

"I agree," Roland said. "Perhaps he would be better if you set an example for him, sir."

"If only it was that easy," Kaiba muttered. Roland nodded, weary, but understanding. "Is the night shift here?"

"Of course, sir."

"Then I'll see you in the morning," Kaiba said, dismissing Roland with a wave of his hand. The assistant gave a curt bow of the head before turning on his heel, disappearing into one of the long halls, lit only by silver streaks of moonlight through drawn curtains.

Approaching a set of double doors, left ajar, Kaiba entered into a dim bedroom and kicked aside a set of clothes laid haphazard on the floor next to the bed. The rest of the room was in a varied state of disarray, but that was to be expected from a fourteen year old, he supposed. In the corner of the room, a woman with a kind face glanced up to him, nodding curt, as he approached the occupants of the bed which laid at a forty-five degree angle. The tips of his fingers brushed the clotted mess of hair that popped out from underneath the covers. As he did, the figure shifted, a viscous cough erupting underneath. Kaiba's hand flinched away. The covers were pulled down, and Mokuba sat up in the bed, rubbing at his eye.

"You just get home, nii-sama?"

"I did. Lay back down," Kaiba urged.

Mokuba was reluctant, but with a press of his brother's palm, he leaned back against the mound of pillows. "I missed you."

"Missed you too, kiddo," Kaiba said. "Lessons go okay today?"

"Yep." Mokuba rubbed his nose on his wrist. The very motion made Kaiba sigh.

"Are you getting sick?" As he asked, Kaiba turned towards the nurse who, upon hearing the question, had rapt attention on Mokuba and his every move.

"No. Just a runny nose."

"You sure?"

"Yep," Mokuba replied. "You go out tonight?"

Kaiba sat on the edge of the bed. "For a bit; it didn't last very long."

Mokuba chuckled. "You gotta stop beating them so fast. Might be more fun that way," he said. "You might make more friends that way, too."

"I don't need any friends. You're enough," Kaiba said.

From beneath the covers, Mokuba kicked at Kaiba's thigh. The older brother looked over, mirthful, raising his brow to the younger's antics. "You need friend, nii-sama. You can play cards with people and be their friend, too. Might make you a bit happier."

"Happier?"

Mokuba nodded. "Yeah. You..."the teen paused. One thumbnail flicked at the other before he began pinching at the skin until it paled. "You haven't been smiling lately."

The brunet's shoulders dropped, and a reflexive grin popped onto his face. It went unseen as Mokuba slid down into the bedsheets and pulled the comforter up over his head. "And you think a friend would fix that?" Kaiba asked.

The stranger flashed into Kaiba's mind without wanting him to be there. Such a weird little man, with his imposing, wine-coloured eyes and impish grin, asking all manner of cryptic questions.

"Maybe, I guess. I dunno," Mokuba replied, a yawn stretching out the words.

"Go to sleep, you have lessons in the morning." A muffled raspberry was given in response. "Night, Moki."

"Night, Seto."

The purple chip was pulled from Kaiba's pocket, laying weighted in his hand, as he exited Mokuba's room. He rolled it in his palm and slipped between his thumb and forefinger. With a push of his thumb, he began to roll it between his fingers and over his knuckles.

_How much would you risk for a thrill?_

Kaiba could hear those words echoed so loud in his head that he was sure it was bouncing around the empty hallway. The question had plagued him from the moment that he left the stranger's presence. It was given in succession with other questions that its context made it seem like it had an easy answer. In a casino, 'risk' and 'thrill' all equated to one thing: money. But that seemed like the least of the stranger's worry, which lead Kaiba back to what had felt like the main question.

_How much would you risk for a thrill?_

Entering the master bedroom, Kaiba flicked on the light and began to undress, the purple chip thrown onto the foot of the bed. He wasn't sure why he had kept it instead of checking it into the safekeeping box at the cashier's cage. It stared back at him as he changed into his night clothes. As if the stranger still clung it it, waved it between his fingers, and used it like a the slow-curling finger of a wicked temptress calling him into her lap.

Plucking it up from the comforter, Kaiba squeezed it in his palm and tried to wash the stranger from his mind.

_How much would you risk for a thrill?_

Mindless, the chip was twirled between Kaiba's fingers once he settled into bed, a laptop propped on his knees. Work was a rabbit-hole that he could delve into for hours, losing himself in the process while the hours ticked by, ignoring all other thoughts that entered his mind. Especially the cryptic stranger. The chip was just an object; the stranger was just another face in the crowd.

—

A perky hostess, clad in purple, straightened her back as Kaiba approached her, and an ear splitting popped onto her face.

"Good evening, Mr. Kaiba," she beamed. "I didn't see you last week for our promotion." No response, a player's card slid towards her. She slid it onto the computer and handed of back. "Are you looking for the same as usual?"

"Of course."

The hostess typed rapidly. "Ah, well, looks like a table just broke but I think Ms. Valentine said she was looking forward to playing with you; you and her like playing together," she said, giving a playful wink.

"Get on with it."

After a few moments, the hostess said: "Okay, so, it looks like there's a few takers here, I'm sure. We'll call out the interest check for you. If you don't mind waiting, it shouldn't be more than a few minutes."

It would have been fine if it was more than a few minutes. Mai Valentine was self-confident and, for the most part, a decent challenger, but she wasn't his favourite to play against. Not with the way practically flung herself on the table when they played together, even if she had another one of her boy-toys on her arm.

He stepped walked away, hands deep into his pockets, nail still fiddling with the purple chip. He skirted around the edges of the building, peering into the glassy eyes of the slot players, crossing through the outside of the pit, amused by the joy that came out of someone for winning even money on table games.

Traps. All of them. 'The house always wins' was said for a reason. The only real chance someone had was playing against other people. It wasn't just pure luck, but also skill. People skills.

Leaning against the wall of the poker room, Kaiba counted seven tables open, a slow night, a brush sweeping off a table in the far corner. "I jump, you ask 'how high'?" He murmured.

"Do we now, Kaiba-boy?"

Kaiba grimaced to the lilted voice, a hand on his shoulder. He brushed the fingers away.

"What do you want, Pegasus?"

"Nothing. I was just notified the my favourite player was on property," he said, and stepped up to be shoulder to shoulder with Kaiba.

"Stooping to backhanded compliments now?"

"I would never," Pegasus gasped. "I'm always sincere with you."

The executive looked every way but to his left, so long as it avoided seeing Pegasus Crawford, the GM of the establishment, or his garish red suit, in his peripheral.

And he was glad that he did, because it allowed for him to catch sight of a certain tri-colour haired stranger in the distance. Smiling. Laughing. He was folding a hand.

"Though," Pegasus began, "we do need to discuss the mess that happened last time you were here."

"I knew there was an ulterior motive," Kaiba replied. He leaned as the stranger shifted around, talking to a blond across the table from him. They seemed close. Interesting. "It wasn't my mess, anyways."

"I don't know about that, now," Pegasus disagreed. "You have a way of being apart of some pretty serious messes."

Kaiba sighed. "So what's this about? Money?"

Pegasus shrugged. "In a way."

Kaiba took a step forward when the stranger leaned back. His hand touched his cards, spun them, and then he bet. Never looking. "How much do you want, then?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Damages for the table, I'm assuming," Kaiba replied. "Why else bring it up and not escort me off property?"

Pegasus stepped forward with him, hands clasped at his waist, and was leaned to watch what Kaiba was watching. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught where Pegasus was inspecting the same table he was. "Oh, that's not what I'm talking about."

"No?" Kaiba finally looked at Pegasus, brow raised. Pegasus shook his head. "We're not talking about the idiot who flipped the table?"

"Oh, heavens, no! Though, on that note, I really, _really_ dislike banning a regular like Mr. Howard. Please, try not to rile them up too much next time, Kaiba-boy," Pegasus said.

"Hn." As if it took much to rile up Keith Howard, Kaiba thought. The man had always been rash. He'd thrown things at dealers, cussed out floor staff, made lewd comments to the cocktail servers, and there were more unsavoury things that Kaiba had only heard rumour about. But high-rollers were always a little different. It took a lot more weight against the house to kick them out. And, he considered, it was a shame Keith was banned, even if he was ignorant. He was one of those people on a short list that could afford to play against him, and now that list was even shorter.

"No, what I'm referring to is—oh, how not sound accusatory—the behaviour you displayed shortly after what happened with Mr. Howard," Pegasus said, and he posed an open hand to the stranger that Kaiba's eyes had returned to, "with that boy there, in fact. It was rather...curious."

"I can't imagine why." Kaiba said. He folded his arms over his chest and returned to looking at the stranger as he raked a small pot. His fingers were thin, nimble, and precise as he stacked up the chips. He didn't play with them; his hand returned to his cheek and he leaned, willowy and regnal, never casually observing.

"Well, it appeared he stole your money; you seemed rather...upset with him," Pegasus said.

"I wasn't."

"No? Enough to drag him off to the bar?" Pegasus asked. His hands folded behind his back. "For the safety of all my guests, Kaiba-boy, if there is a disagreement between you two, I'd like to—"

"There isn't."

"Well then, as for the matter of him stealing your money—"

"He didn't," Kaiba said, matter-of-fact.

Pegasus hummed, and he leaned in close enough that Kaiba side-stepped away. A wry smile appeared on his face. "I see. Well," he sighed, throwing silver hairs over his shoulder. "If it's as you say."

"It is."

But Kaiba wasn't sure why. It was a disagreement. It was theft. It was a lot of things that shouldn't have happened in the way that they had and, with just a word from him to Pegasus, the stranger would have been thrown out. Such a low-level player like him? No one would make a fuss if he disappeared. However, the very nature of him sitting there, playing with little thought to his bets, eyeing the blond across the table and smiling, enjoying cheap drinks and being so...happy. It was as nauseating as it was intriguing.

"You know," Pegasus said, "it's going to be a few minutes before your table is ready. Perhaps you should play with him."

"Why would I do that?" Kaiba asked.

"You just seem so interested in him," Pegasus said. You've been staring at him so wistfully."

Kaiba scoffed. "I have not."

Pegasus chuckled. "I don't blame you for the interest. I hear he's quite the little card shark. Not unlike yourself. He's cleaned up at a few tournaments," Pegasus said. "The last...seven in fact. Seems rather unbeatable."

"Like me? That's ludicrous." But also an interesting detail. Did this stranger play the same in the tournaments, too? Betting on blind hands and winning? That could be a reason to talk to him, just to assuage that curiosity.

"Just because he plays cheap doesn't mean he plays poorly," Pegasus said. "I'd say, if you gave him the time, he might actually give you a run for your money."

"Not much of it."

A hand snaked up onto Kaiba's shoulder. "Then there's nothing to lose, is there?" Pegasus said, leaning in close enough to whisper in his ear.

Kaiba was quick to reach his hand up to flick Pegasus' away, but it had already moved, reached beneath his veil of hair and focused on listening to what Kaiba could presume was a radio. He nodded quickly, raising his head and smiling to Kaiba.

"Well, I best be off. Business to attend to. Try not to make any more messes while I'm gone? I will be watching you."

"Is that a threat—?" Kaiba asked, whipping around. Pegasus had already disappeared.

Brushing Pegasus away from his mind, Kaiba walked forward, passing through the sea of pushed out chairs and to the stranger's central table in the poker room. A few minutes wouldn't hurt, he supposed. Especially if he had the chance to see if Pegasus was telling the truth or not about the stranger's ability.

And to find out the stranger's name, too. Maybe then Kaiba would stop thinking about him so damn much.

"Oh lookie here," the blond said as Kaiba pulled out a recently vacated seat, "come down here to row with the slaves, eh?"

"Joey," the stranger chided, shaking his head. Joey nodded his head back, vehement. He turned his attention back to Kaiba. "You've been thinking about my question, I take it?"

"No, not really," Kaiba replied.

The stranger knit his fingers under his chin, and his eyes followed Kaiba's movements up until he retrieved the purple chip from his pocket for change, and that was where Kaiba caught him eyeing the chip instead, as if it were evidence of their last encounter.

"I see," the stranger hummed in disagreement, but moved on. "What's brought you back, then?"

"I didn't catch your name after your little stunt," Kaiba said. "So here I am."

The stranger laughed. "Is that all?"

"I figure you owe it to me," Kaiba said.

"'Owe you'?" the stranger repeated.

"He don't owe ya nothin'!" Joey interjected. "If it'll make ya go away, his name's—"

The stranger held his hand out to stop Joey. There was a pause, for a moment, as the dealer began to throw out the cards. The stranger pulled his close, hand laid firmly a top them. Kaiba thumbed up the corners. A pair of threes. The cards slapped onto the felt. The stranger began again: "If you want to know my name, beat me in a hand."

Kaiba's eyes narrowed. An odd challenge. "Fine."

"But," the stranger added, "If you lose, I get to ask you a personal question. And you must answer."

Ah. Not a challenge. A wager. "Agreed. Prepare to be beaten."

"So self-confident. You must have a good hand," the stranger said. It garnered no reaction from Kaiba.

A full table, but already four people had folded upon seeing their cards. Two checks, with Kaiba following suit. The stranger bet. Around the circle it went. The remaining players called. The flop of three cards came out. King of hearts, four of diamonds, and an ace of diamonds.

The stranger was spinning the cards beneath his fingers. Two more players folded, Joey included. Kaiba called. The stranger raised. Kaiba matched. Another player folded.

"Why don't you look at your cards?" Kaiba asked.

"Do you want that answer to be your winnings instead?" The stranger asked in reply.

"Winnings?" Kaiba scoffed. "Are you holding all your answers hostage?"

An amused smile cropped up on the stranger's face. "Yet another question."

Kaiba scowled and assessed the table as the next card, the turn, came out. An eight of clubs. The last player folded; it was just him and the stranger.

"I'll take your name as the 'winnings' for now," Kaiba said.

What an odd little game. The stranger would answer no questions, but Kaiba supposed he didn't have to either. They had to finish a hand first, and whoever won could have any question answered. Interesting.

He bet the turn. The stranger raised. Kaiba called. The pot was collected and the river, the last card, came out. Seven of diamonds. Kaiba bet, despite the risk. Every card on the board was higher than his pair. Maybe his confidence, as the stranger said, was enough.

The stranger folded, laughing, leaning against his cheek in his hand hand. "You win this one. Congratulations, Mr. Kaiba. My name is Yami Mutou."

The chips were stacked up, counted quickly in the process. A measly eighty-nine dollars. He gave half of it to the dealer. He wasn't looking for the money. Yami knew that he was looking for the money, just the win. And it felt a little too easy, given what Pegasus had told him. All the betting, raising, up until the very end. Like Yami was baiting him.

"Play again?" Yami asked. There it was, the reason for the bait, Kaiba thought.

"Depends," he replied. "Are the stakes the same? Questions?"

"Sure," Yami shrugged, almost too casual. "You can ask me anything you want, no matter how personal; I can do the same to you, just to be fair."

"Such a weird thing to bet on."Kaiba said, and he found himself laughing.

" _SK, your table is ready,_ " Kaiba heard over the intercom. He looked up, and back down to Yami. He could have left it that. His curiosity was quenched; the stranger had a name. There was no reason to be baited into this little side wager.

But those lips wetted and upturned in such a provocative way. The cool arch of his brow, contrasting the wild-fire in his eyes. So enticing. And, while this was still just a game, it had much different stakes at risk. Personal risk. Yami could ask _anything_ , and he already seemed keenly aware of who Kaiba was. What sort of questions could Yami ask about his company? His family? Would he ask for exclusive details and sell it the highest bidder? Being a public figure had its downsides. If he played this game, it wouldn't be right to lie—then there was no stake. No risk.

No thrill.

"There's a table ready for me; just you and I could play there," Kaiba suggested.

"Where no one could hear us talk," Yami explained. "What fun would that be?"

The conflict in his stomach was harsh. On one hand, there was an easy victory in Mai, but...it hadn't felt like he truly won against Yami. It felt too easy.

"Are you in?" The dealer asked.

Kaiba glanced back up at the dealer, then to Yami, still staring him down. "I'm in."

Yami slid back into his seat with a cocky, satisfied smirk. Kaiba hoped he was worth the time. At least he would be more pleasant than Mai to look at in the meanwhile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kaiba’s line ‘I say jump, you say ‘how high’ was said to a blackjack dealer when it came to an obnoxious high limit player. Fun stuff. Tip your dealers, kids. 
> 
> This is def exposition to get the story rolling, from here on out there’s gonna be more escalating shenanigans between Yami and Kaiba, promise, just laying groundwork. 
> 
> Casino random fact: Chip denominations (varies in some casinos)
> 
> Blue/white - $1  
> Yellow - $2  
> Pink -$2.50  
> Red - $5  
> Green - $25  
> Black - $100  
> Purple - $500  
> Orange (pumpkins) - $1000
> 
> There are larger denoms in grey/gold/brown but it varies place to place for anything over 1000. Anyways, enough of my boredom. 
> 
> Tell me what ya think and see ya next time!


	3. Chapter 3

Folding was the most useful tool in a poker player’s arsenal, Yami knew, though very few seemed to follow the belief. Plenty of people played to bluff, eager to test their skill in reading the small ticks in people’s faces and revelling in winning with a terrible hand, over knowing an optimal strategy. It was careless and misguided, no matter how fun it was, because it was like playing without knowing all of the rules. And without knowing the rules, they couldn’t bent and used to every want, need, or moment. It made them easy targets because they didn’t protect their assets, hoarding them and acting as if folding a hand was admitting defeat.

But Kaiba seemed to know the rules well. Very well. And, to top it off, he played aggressively elegant. The other players at the table seemed keen to knock him down, to read his smug, impenetrable mask, but he was unflinching, unfaltering. Perhaps a little stubborn.

Still bored, too, with a flicker of life coming to him only when the matches came between him and Yami.

Yami’s first question was innocent: “How old are you, Mr. Kaiba?”

“Twenty-one.”

“Just old enough,” Yami’s smile curved up. “You seem older than your years.”

A small ‘hmph’ as Kaiba threw in the small blind bet, the cards shuffled and dealt out. It was another two hands before they were up against one another again. Bet. Raise. Call. The pot was pushed to Kaiba, cut in half, given to the dealer.

“Why do you play blind?” Kaiba asked.

“I don’t see a reason not to. The result will be the same.”

“How so?” Kaiba said, but caught himself, his nose curled in irritation at the realisation. Yami chuckled.

“Perhaps for the next question.”

Another three hands, though Yami was pleased to watch as Joey raked in a little something. The entire time, the blond had his eyes to Kaiba, sneering an making faces, often met with a glare as Joey looked away, feigning ignorance to his own behaviour.

Kaiba took the pot again.

“How would the result of playing blind be the same?” He asked.

“Because I would play the same way regardless,” Yami stated.

At that, Kaiba snorted. “I doubt that; you would play to a different strategy if you knew what you had. I think you’re just scared of making the wrong choice.”

“Mm. An interesting theory.”

“A correct one,” Kaiba said.

Yami shrugged. “Well, you can certainly ask me next time.”

This wasn’t the sort of thing that Yami imagined from this game, but he couldn’t read Kaiba’s mind. So far, his questions were single minded. If his curiosity was assuaged, there was a chance that he would leave. The money wasn’t interesting him, so said the cheery faces of the dealers that were getting half the pot each time.

Another hand passed by. And Another. It came to Yami, beating Kaiba over a higher flush. “Does the money matter to you at all?”

“No,” Kaiba answered. “This is just a game.”

“So then you play for the win,” said Yami. A statement, not a question. Kaiba’s lips parted, almost answering before catching himself.

“I coulda told ya that,” Joey interjected. There were murmurs around the table from the other players. “Take all of it from ‘im, Yami. He ain’t gonna care whether ya do or not. He basically jus’ said so. Free-for-all.”

Kaiba shifted to look at Joey. “Dogs shouldn’t be allowed at the table.”

“Why you jackass ya....”

“Please be nice,” Yami encouraged. “We’re all friends here.”

“If you truly think that, then you’re delusional,” Kaiba said. But Yami caught him glaring at Joey, looking the blond up and down as the cards were dealt out again. Scanning him, head cocked to the side as if he were looking for a different angle to a puzzle. His flicked the corner of the card up before folding. “When you’re playing against someone, they’re not your friend. They’re just an opponent.”

“Seems like a bleak point of view,” said Yami.

“It’s a realistic one.”

“Ah,” Yami also folded. “So you colour yourself a realist? The sort of brutally honest person?”

Kaiba raised a brow, but kept his lips sealed. Yami was sure, if he riled Kaiba up just right, that he could get the man to answer a question without a hand being necessary. But he had to give it the brunet points for self-control. It was still a game, one with rules, and Kaiba didn’t intend on breaking them. Just bending them, like the expert he seemed to be.

Another two hands before it was back to them. Yami took the pot. “Are you a brutally honest person?”

“Yes.” Kaiba smirked. “I’ve been called worse, if you think that’s an insult.”

“Not in the slightest.”

Three more hands. Raise, call, bet, raise, call. Yami folded. Kaiba took up the pot. “So are you afraid of making the wrong choice when you don’t play blind?” Kaiba asked.

“I would be foolish to say otherwise,” Yami replied. “I worry I would be throwing away money, confident in a loss, or not backing up a second guess. I prefer to make the most that I can. And enjoy myself in the process.”

“Yeah,” Joey added. “Not everyone’s here jus’ to win a game.”

“Then you’ve lost the point of playing,” Kaiba sighed. He threw away the cards after the flop came out.

Joey snorted. “An’ he calls me delusional.”

“Friendship in a game hinders your decision making,” Kaiba said. “Especially when money is involved.”

“Yami an’ me are good friends, An’ he ain’t afraid t’ take any of my money,” Joey replied. “We know it don’t mean nothin’ in the end.”

“Is that so?”

Kaiba’s arms crossed over his chest, his entire interest returned to Joey; the blond’s thumb flicking at the edges of the cards, while he chewed on his lower lip. His head raised, then lowered before making his decision to fold. At that, Yami bet. Kaiba stopped looking at the blond and turned to look at Yami. His eyes were wide, alert, with more fire than Yami had seen before. Lightened with the barest hint of a smile. It was ferocious; it was unsettling in its honesty.

Yami had a knot grow in pit of his stomach.

That feeling wasn’t ignored as they were facing each other again, with Kaiba seeming to take it a little more seriously, pushing chips in with sureness and aggression. When it came to win, Kaiba displayed a nonchalant, buttoned down version of excitement, almost unrecognisable to most. He asked: “Do you and your pet always play together?”

“Pet, Mr. Kaiba?” Yami asked.

“This thing,” he said, motioning to Joey. The blond leaned against the table, reaching across another player to try and grab at Kaiba, chided by the dealer instead.

“Do you have to be crude?” Yami asked. A downward turn of his mouth, and Yami knew he had pressed too far, but he had made the executive answer an extra question out of turn. Small wins.

“Answer the question,” Kaiba said. The dealer had already moved into the next round.

“Yes,” Yami replied, with a shallow nod. He tensed beneath the table, pulling his feet up against the chair. “We’ve known each other a long time. It’s only fair we play together.”

“You don’t have to. There’s plenty other things to do in here. Other tables, too,” Kaiba said.

“Friends are odd things; you seem unfamiliar with the idea.”

The hand went on. Raise. Bet. Call. Back to the two of them, to the chagrin of the rest of the table. Kaiba’s mask faltered as he lost the hand, feigning disinterest. His excitement was squashed.

“Would you consider yourself a man of many friends, Mr. Kaiba?” Asked Yami.

“Not particularly.”

“A shame.”

Another two rounds. Yami took the pot again, asking: “Do you think it has anything to do with your brutal honesty?”

“Not at all.”

Yami hummed in response.

Another round. Kaiba grimaced as it didn’t come between them, the most emotion he saw the man illicit. Something weighed on his mind, Yami could see, the question just dancing on his lips. For the first time, Yami was feeling the weight of the questions, the very nature of Kaiba’s nagging, passing looks to Joey, suggesting the sort of question that he wanted to ask. For the first time, Yami felt the need to stall him, beat him even, but couldn’t bring himself to changing his tactic. Not with Joey still giving him signals.

Another round went by. Another. Another. Kaiba simmered in his impatience. When Yami won the next hand against Kaiba, he asked: “So I heard an interesting rumour. You may not be a friend to many, Mr. Kaiba, but I hear that you have quite the sex life. And...not always with pretty women. Is that true?”

Yami had to admit, as the question settled, as Kaiba’s sure face contorted into something more confused and pensive, he couldn’t help but like those blue eyes, the curve in his lip. The way he held himself was very coercive in its nature, with his back straight but himself angled just right. Not inviting, but still demanding to be looked at. The suits he wore accentuated every bit of his eccentric air, from the colour to the cut.

Yami leaned forward, bridging his hand beneath his chin. “Well, Mr. Kaiba?”

Kaiba looked away. “I...don’t have the time for relationships.”

“Sex doesn’t require a relationship,” Yami said. Joey began to laugh, almost howling.

“Be quiet, mutt!”

Joey only laughed harder, his head bowed on the table. It didn’t feel right to see him having so much fun at Kaiba’s embarrassment, but Yami felt as if he had, for a moment, succeeded in making the stakes fair. Even if he felt underhanded.

Kaiba turned to him, looking up from his eyelashes, eyes narrowed.

 _So you think the whole world needs to know my secrets?_ Kaiba’s glance asked.

 _I do. You would do the same to me, wouldn’t you?_ Yami said with a tilt of the head.

Kaiba looked away. He wouldn’t spare Yami any embarrassment, he was sure.

The very next hand, he noticed Kaiba’s change in betting behaviour. He was more aggressive than before, fighting everyone else out to try and back to Yami, whatever question he had in mind burning behind his eyes.

Yami fought every instinct that told him that Kaiba was playing him, using his aggression and his chip count to have the upper hand. But, Yami also thought, even if he was being baited, the end result of this was going to be shame for either of them.

It was between the chance that he would reveal Kaiba’s sexuality (if his instinct and Kaiba’s averted response were correct) to a table of players, or the chance that Kaiba would reveal the tactic (if he truly knew, Yami wasn’t so confident) that he and Joey used in order to make a few dollars.

Yami needed to force the win, despite the odds, despite it going against every feeling his gut to ruin Kaiba’s reputation with such a delicate matter. He could hear Yugi scolding him. He needed to scare Kaiba into folding, making him believe that Yami already knew what Kaiba’s cards were, as if Joey might have seen and given him a signal.

Thumbing through the stack of chips, a good take because of Kaiba’s plays, he wondered if it was worth it. Sacrifice the pot, and any future chances to play, for the sake of the money that laid out in front of him. It would get the family through another month, maybe, if he played it right. Enough time to find another job.

It wouldn’t have been so much fun, though, he considered. And if he pushed all in and won against Kaiba, called the brunet’s careless betting, he could walk out with so much more and still be able to come back.

Was the stress rippled tight in his muscles worth seeing Kaiba actually look excited? Despite the lingering threat, he felt like he was doing the man a favour, even if he were to fold intentionally. His own embarrassment may have been Kaiba’s pleasure—he wouldn’t be so bored for a moment.

Wasn’t that the sort of risk he’d promised Kaiba from the beginning?

“Call or fold,” Kaiba said.

A stack of red chips were cut in half, engulfed in his palm and ready to be pushed out to match the call, before Yami pulled it back and set it atop the remainder of the stack. A relaxed breath spread through him.

“All-in,” Yami called. His hands cupped around all his stacks in, nudging them forward and ignoring the nervous twitch in his fingertips. The dealer counted them up, setting them in the centre. All the while, Joey was shaking his head and leaning over the railing, mouth hung open towards his friend and cursing between clenched teeth.

“Huh, you’ve made the mutt foam at the mouth,” Kaiba said. “I can only wonder why.”

“$485 to raise,” the dealer said.

The black chips that had remained behind, sitting close to rim, were pushed out along with the rest necessary to match Yami’s bet.

 _Over a thousand dollars is what all this is worth to me?_ Yami thought. The money meant nothing to Kaiba, but they were both staking their risks in silent, closed lipped worry.

Yami’s hands folded together in front of his mouth as the pot was pooled together in a small mound of mix-matched chips.

“Reveal hands,” the dealer called, the cards pushed in to her. They were flipped over, letting the table see, murmur to one another. Joey’s head dropped. Two pair on Yami’s side compared to Kaiba’s three-of-a-kind.

Looking up, he anticipated glee on Kaiba’s face. Relief, maybe, in the thought of not having to protect himself or save face when answering Yami’s planned, hurtful question. Relief from not being ousted in front of a bunch of no-named peers who would turn the rumour mill. When they met eye to eye, Yami saw a Kaiba that was far less excited. Not even remotely happy. But not unhappy, either. He was fervent, passioned, with a touch of hysteria to an upward curve of his lips.

An odd, devious smile, that Yami could almost see as excited, but not quite. Were Kaiba’s eyes less dampened with disappointed, he could have said the executive’s smile suited his face well. High-lighted his brow and lightened his shallow cheeks.

For someone who chased and wanted only to win at a game, he had never seen such an upset winner. A nervous shiver rumbled through Yami. He had no money left for the night, only the small stack that Joey had managed to keep. That was enough to split between them.

“You play well,” Yami said, smiling polite in spite of the loss. “You weren’t afraid to call my bluff.”

“Bluff? What bluff?” Kaiba asked. Yami went to reply, but Kaiba leaned forward. “And no, that is not my question. How can you honestly expect to challenge someone like that? How can you even think you’re going to ease anyone’s boredom with risk if you’re so damn bored yourself?”

“Mr. Kaiba, I’m not sure what question...”

Kaiba held out his hand. “This is my question: how much do I have to pay you play me right?”

Yami froze.

How much did he have to....?

“Pay me?” Yami wasn’t even sorry that his voice broke.

Joey was balking, his head bouncing back and forth between them. “The fuck are ya on about, moneybags?”

Kaiba seemed to be seething, his teeth bared in frustration. He had won and yet Yami was sure he was on the verge of mental collapse. “Yes, Yami,” the tri-coloured hair man twitched at the sound of his name on Kaiba’s tongue. Harsh, with a heavy lilt. He made the two syllables sound exotic. “Could I pay you to play me the way I know you can play? Without your stupid pet to hinder you?”

Yami’s heart was pounding. He wanted to raise his hands in surrender and walk away from this game. Was Kaiba being serious? Would he sincerely pay Yami to play a game where they were already betting money? Or...

“He’s not a fuckin’ animal t’ be bought,” Joey protested.

“Joey!”

Yami didn’t command his own voice. The shout came out more violent than he would have liked. Enough that Joey flinched back and was questioning his friend with every glance.

“Perhaps we...should about this talk elsewhere, Mr. Kaiba,” Yami said. The game had been waiting on them for the few tense seconds of exchange. “We’re holding up the game.”

“No, If you don’t answer me now, I will tell everyone your secret.” Kaiba said.

Yami’s hands folded in his lap, fingers squeezing between each other. His eyes met with Joey’s who, now, seemed to understand and was glaring at the back of Kaiba’s head. “I...I would set the price?”

Kaiba inclined his head up, almost looking down on Yami with a vicious glint. “Is that a yes?”

There was nothing that Yami wouldn’t give to know what Kaiba was thinking. As much as his emotions had been hidden behind carefully carved facades, Yami felt he had read Kaiba clearly. As manic as he appeared at the moment, however, Yami could say that he‘d been wrong, and couldn’t tell where this offer was coming from. He wondered why he hadn’t seen it. Kaiba had, for the most part, been very single minded on Yami’s tactics. Maybe he had, without saying much, told Kaiba all that needed to be said about how much he needed the money.

Yami nodded, slow.

Kaiba’s hand posed at his ear. “Say it so everyone can hear you.”

“Yes.”

Kaiba lowered his hand to drop into his pocket, digging out a cell phone, his devious smile fading down into something softer. Kinder. Glowing in pride, satisfaction. It let Yami stunned, finding his words and still searching the brunet’s face while as he engrossed himself in a text message.

“Do you want to discuss details now?” Yami asked.

Kaiba didn’t answer immediately. His face was contorting to worry, thumb swiping across the keyboard of his phone before burying it back in his pocket.

“Everything in time. It’s getting late and I need to go,” Kaiba said. He swept up the chips that had been given to him and asked for the dealer to colour them up. Once done, Kaiba stood and, without any thought, he tossed black chips towards Yami. The mythical little chips were fingered, situated atop each other neatly, counted with his heart beating in his fingertips.

$800.

Yami’s tongue seemed to swell in his mouth, and he shot a confused look up to Kaiba.

“Mr. Kaiba, I....”

“Upfront payment, if you think I’m joking with you,” Kaiba replied. “I know where to find you?”

Yami nodded weakly, unable to say anything else as Kaiba before he grinned and swept out of the room.

Without having done anything other than agree, he already felt dirty to be looked at with that grin. Only a little, though. The rest of it was curiosity, twinged with excitement. Maybe some happiness to know that money would come easy for a short while. 

Yami wasn’t sure if he was as happy as Kaiba seemed for the fraction of the moment. And they said that money couldn’t buy happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah. The end conversation (and decision to have Yami lose initially) was what took so long. I kept fighting with myself. Ah, well, decisions been made and...
> 
> Well, well, well....what’s Yami getting into? We’ll see. 
> 
> Casino fun fact: 
> 
> In the Las Vegas, and many other casinos in the US, $50’s are considered ‘unlucky’ and aren’t often kept on hand, due to several reasons:
> 
> -Bugsey Siegel, the mobster who sort of built up some of Vegas, died with 50s in his pocket. 
> 
> -Grant, the US president on the bill, was considered very unlucky, and also went bankrupt while in the presidency. 
> 
> Every casino I’ve worked in will take them, but we didn’t give them out unless requested, and they were often sent to the bank as soon as possible.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This went differently than I thought, but I like it :3 longer too, which isn’t a bad thing,

The drive home was quiet, the radio humming low in the background. Yami gripped tight to the money in his hand, all four hundred dollars and change after he split it with Joey crinkled in his hands. He had been staring at it the entire car ride, thinking about what had gone down, questioning his own sanity and beginning to have second thoughts. He had agreed to Kaiba's offer for both his and Joey's sakes, knowing that Joey would have more than disappointed if their secret was revealed, but he was conflicted. He had been bought like some cheap whore. Well, not cheap.

Joey's outbursts inside the casino and subsequent quiet in the car didn't go unnoticed. It had taken a little bit of persuading to get him to take his half of the money in the first place, as if he had also sold himself alongside Yami, unwittingly being dragged into the mess. After a long stretch of silence, Yami said:

"I promise that whatever I make off of this will still be split with you.," Yami proffered for peace. "I know you aren't exactly happy."

"I'm fuckin' pissed at the bastard," Joey snapped, sounding as if he had wanted to say something the entire time. "He's got some fuckin' nerve, ya know? Puttin' you in a corner like that an' makin' nutty offers. Like, seriously, who does that sorta shit?"

"I did the same thing," Yami reminded Joey, and himself, gently. "I initiated the challenge. I should have expected it to escalate at some point, just not as quickly as it did. I have to hand it to Mr. Kaiba, he's very tactical about things. He is a very compelling opponent. I...I have to wonder how he'll act if I don't play blind."

Joey mulled in silence, opening his mouth and closing it several times. He muttered to himself, inaudible against the sound of the radio, flicking his eyes over to Yami several times. "Ya...you really wanna do this? Ya wanna go down whatever road this is, even though he's like, bein' a weird, crazy prick?"

"I think it's an avenue that should be explored with some caution," Yami replied, tentative. "But yes, overall, I want to do this."

Joey sighed. His head began bobbing back and forth, a few more words said inaudible to himself. It ended with the blond nodding to himself, settling whatever argument he was having with himself. "Alright then, that settles it. If you're okay with it, I'll figure out how to deal."

"Thank you, Joey."

"Ah ah, I ain't done. Ya gotta make me a few promises first." Yami turned to Joey as they reached a red light. The blond looked him square in the eye as he said: "One: don't go playin' without me around, a'right? I'm gonna be your back up in case he gets stupid. Two: don't ever leave the casino with him t' go anywhere. No matter what he says. That's jus' askin' for trouble an' I don't trust the asshole."

"That seems fair," Yami agreed. He hadn't planned on it being much different than before, but it was comforting to know he still had Joey behind him. "Like I promised: we'll still be splitting. I don't think this would have happened if you hadn't riled him up."

"Yeah...maybe not," Joey said, beaming in his brilliance. Their tactic had still worked, even if it was in a completely different way. "Say, speakin' of the money: ya think we'll get ya back before dinner's started this time. You should call Yug' an' tell him to stop. We can go to that Indian place."

Yami shrugged. "Perhaps."

"Well, go on then, call 'em. Tell him how ya made out like a devil back there."

Yami laughed, half-hearted, shaking his head. "I will in a minute. I have to figure out how to explain this to him first."

"Ya gotta explain it?" Joey asked. He made a quick turn, jostling Yami into the side of the car. "What's t' explain? Ya played cards an' won like last time. Same old story. Better endin'."

"I know, but I don't want to lie to him. He knows the con you and I do. I don't see why I should spare him these details."

"Then don't."

Yami cocked his head to the side and grinned. "It's not that easy."

"Sure it is. 'Hey Yug'," he began, deepening his voice to match Yami's, placing his thumb and pinky finger in the shape of a phone around his ear, "so here's the gist. There's this really weird, crazy, rich guy, Seto Kaiba—',"

"Joey, stop," Yami chuckled, smiling. Joey waved his hand to hush Yami.

"'Yeah, _the_ Seto Kaiba, the billionaire who owns half of Domino? Yeah, so, he totally just offered to pay me to play cards with him? Would ya believe that? Look at this'," Joey poised his hand to the money, "'this is downpayment. Be ready to eat like a king!'"

The tension in Yami eased some as the laughter grew in his belly. "When you put it that way, it doesn't sound terrible."

"'Cause it ain't!"

"I also can't show him money on the phone," Yami added. He was promptly whacked on the shoulder.

"You fuckin' know what I'm sayin'."

"I do, I just," Yami shook his head and looked out the window, past the darkened blurs of the cityscape. "I don't know what this is exactly. I don't know what to expect; he left so suddenly."

Joey snorted. "Expect to play cards way too fuckin' seriously, man. That's it. That's all the man does, a'right? Like...does it so much that he's got a reputation. So much so he dealers got a name for him. Have ya heard it?"

"...no?"

"The Dragon." Yami's smile faltered, his bottom lip disappearing while he hesitated to laugh, because he could see it both being a compliment and an insult. "Pretty kooky, huh?"

"It's...different," Yami replied. "I imagine he doesn't know? That it's meant to be a code name?"

"Somethin' like that," Joey agreed. "Anyways, what I'm tryin' to say is that ya shouldn't think too hard 'bout it. Whatever you're gettin' into ain't that complicated. Weird, but not complicated."

"Perhaps not."

"See? I mean, if this was a downpayment then what's the normal?"

Yami had been thinking about that the whole time. What did $800 mean in the grand scheme of things? Was that any specific percentage of a greater number or was that just random? And if he was playing with Kaiba, what did that mean? Was he betting his own money, or was Kaiba providing the money and if he won, he got to keep it? And then there was the mention of him setting a price to begin with. So many questions that weren't about to get resolved until they went again, with no promise of Kaiba being there.

There was no use in thinking about it. He would find out sooner or later.

They made it home before he had a chance to call Yugi, too worked up in his own thoughts, though Joey didn't seem to mind. Once they were upstairs, they found that Solomon and Yugi had already eaten and that dishes were being washed up and put away, though two plates were filled up and set aside. Joey dug into his, rambling off to Yugi about a video game he had been playing while Solomon sat at the kitchen table. Yami was grateful. As much as he wanted to tell his twin, he was fearful. Deeply so.

As the three talked, he drifted off into the bedroom and settled at a desk in the corner, poking at dinner. An opened textbook, rifled with high-lighter marks, was pulled close to him, the pages read over for the thousandth time but never turned to the next. Pages 243 and 244, The same pages he had left it on two semesters ago, when money in the household began to get tight. Two college students was one too many; Yugi was so charismatic in his game development studies—there would be more years ahead of him, he had thought when he dropped out. The credits would still be there. Things would get less tight.

He would have Kaiba to owe, and to thank, if he was able to get back into classes. If the money that rested in pocket, and whatever else, helped the family get back to the place they were before; it would be his wildest dream—because it didn't feel like it would happen. Despite the money given, this felt too good to be true.

As he waited for someone to interrupt him, or for him to work up the courage to explain to Yugi what was going on, he slipped onto the bed and found himself staring at the ceiling, considering the name that Kaiba was bestowed by the staff.

The Dragon.

Kaiba certainly carried himself with the pride and quiet elegance that a dragon might. One might even say to a mythical degree. But he was also quick on the attack, bearing his teeth and assaulting anyone who provoked him, and Yami _had_ provoked him, but not in an angered fashion. Instead, he seemed to have briefly revealed a creature that needed soothing in some way, something fearful begging behind his eyes. As if all that pride and elegance were missing something.

Maybe he really needed a companion, willing to pay for if he had to. And Yami couldn't deny how sad that sounded.

Even though he had agreed with Joey that he wouldn't go anywhere Kaiba, he had a feeling he would have to wait and see. It wouldn't be so bad to accompany the executive if that was what he needed. Wanted.

As he drifted off to sleep, he heard the way that Kaiba had said his name. Hissed, but passionate. As if he had never said a name with so much fervour.

It sounded nice.

—

Kaiba thundered up the main staircase, Roland several steps behind, tangled in the mess of his master's overcoat once Kaiba had slung it towards him. "Master Kaiba, I assure you it's not that serious, Mokuba's—"

"If it's not serious, then you wouldn't have messaged me."

"I know, sir, but..."

"'But' nothing. It's either serious or it's not."

A maid ran down the staircase, a laundry basket in her hands. Pausing his ascent, and Kaiba reached out to grab her at the elbow, nearly knocking her down as she turned towards him. Her eyes immediately to the floor, muttering greetings as trembling hands outstretched the basket. Inside was a ball of bedsheets, a fetid odour wafting from them.

Grimacing, Kaiba let go of the maid's arm. With another bow of the head, the maid continued skittering down the stairs as Kaiba jumped up the last few. "Ishizu is already in with him, sir."

"Good, at least you did something right."

It came out harsher than he had meant it to, but he imagined that Roland understood. Matters revolving around Mokuba's health were taken seriously in the household, and certain protocols had to be followed. Minor issues, things like colds or fevers, were taken care of by either the day or night shift nurse. Greater issues were taken care of on site by his specialist, Dr. Ishizu Ishtar, and usually involved difficulty breathing, any kind of impaired motor functions or, as the household had began to call it, 'excessive fluids'—which was the message he had received from Roland in the midst of his battle with Yami.

Slowing his pace on the upper floor, swallowing worry and concern, Kaiba approached Mokuba's room. Even before entering he could hear coughing. Loud and long, followed by short bursts of wheezing. Inside, Mokuba was on his knees in the bed, his head bowed as Ishizu, a thin, tanned woman with sheeted black hair, slapped his back aggressively.

"I've got it," Kaiba said, pushing out of the way, rubbing Mokuba's back before beginning to strike at it, hard but even.

"Nii-sama..."

"Lie down," Kaiba commanded, pushing Mokuba onto his side.

"I'm sorry. I-I..."

"Stop talking."

"But I didn't think I was—"

"I said stop talking."

A soft nod, and another deep round of coughs that simmered into a choking sound.

"What happened?" Kaiba asked, sparing a look to Ishizu.

"Mr. Ackerman said hasn't been able to keep anything down since this morning. He's feverish, dehydrated," Mokuba curled up as he began a coughing fit, tears brimmed in his eyes, "and he's been coughing so much he's almost aspirated. I suspect he's had this in his system for several days."

Ishizu was a kind doctor, one that Mokuba had quickly grown fond of. She had taken care of Mokuba for the better part of the last two years, longer than any other specialist, but it wasn't her kindness that kept her around. Instead, it was her honesty. Whenever he asked a question, she was cut and dry, no matter how bad the news may have been. It made him think about Yami's question regarding his own brutal honesty, and how he wished he could have explained that he appreciated it in return.

Would he get a chance to tell Yami that?

Mokuba shuddered out a whimper, and it stalled Kaiba's hand. "Don't cry; it'll be harder to breathe."

"...yeah..."

"How long did you think you were sick?" Kaiba asked.

"Dunno. Few days."

"And you didn't tell the nurse?" Mokuba shrugged. As Kaiba rubbed his back, he realised the treatment was done and sat upright, falling against Kaiba and burying his head in his older brother's chest. "Mokuba, you can't hide those things."

"I didn't wanna worry you."

Kaiba's arms wrapped around Mokuba's small body; so small, he wouldn't pass for fourteen. Ten if he was lucky. He wasn't sure if that made it easier or harder to coddle Mokuba, but he was sure about just how hard it was to define how seeing his little brother's suffering made him feel, because as he tightened his grip, it didn't seem right to call what he felt as worried. It was more 'empty'. Tired, he figured. That's what it had to have meant.

"Is he going to be alright?" Kaiba asked.

Ishizu sat on the edge of the bed. "I think he'll make it through this one. I'm going to put him on fluids to rehydrate, give him a strong antibiotic," she said. Kaiba nodded, looking down at where Mokuba's eyes were open to slats, unfocused. He struggled against his older brother's hold as he was laid back against the mound of pillows, though he became comfortable after little protest. Ishizu motioned for the nurse to come over with the IV, rising from the bed and circling towards the door. "Perhaps you and I could talk while he rests?"

Kaiba watched the nurse as she applied the IV, gentle but quick, but he also saw Mokuba flinch in spite of his vast experience. He always seemed to flinch as if it were the first time. It used to make Kaiba flinch, too, to see Mokuba in pain. He wasn't sure when it had stopped.

Once if was finished, Kaiba followed Ishizu out of the room, leaving the door ajar as he went.

"Is there still something to talk about? Is there something else wrong with him?" Kaiba asked.

"No, nothing like that. I would have discussed that with the both of you," she said, and her hands folded neatly at her waist. "What I wanted to know if you were doing alright," Ishizu replied. She was always a cool character with a kind smile on her face, but she always reminded him of owl. Eyes wide open, watchful, and able to see in all directions. Through a soul, included.

"I'm fine."

"That's good," she nodded. "Sometimes when you take care of a sick family member, it's easy to forget about yourself. You seem very tired, Mr. Kaiba."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm always tired. My work never stops," he replied. "Mokuba is a relief at the end of the day."

"Is he?"

"Yes," Kaiba replied, but not without pause. He didn't know why he even thought about the question.

"I just want to be sure. Its never wrong to ask for help if you need it," she said. Kaiba's eye twitched.

"That's not necessary." Even when she looked away, Kaiba couldn't shake the feeling that she'd seen right through him. "Are you leaving?"

"For the night, yes. Unless you need something?"

Kaiba shook his head, beginning to turn away as Roland approached Ishizu and walked her down the stairs, falling quietly to one another. He headed back towards Mokuba's room, shaking away Ishizu’s words. Ridiculous. How could he forget about himself? What had he just been doing before he rushed home? That was indulgence. That was a pleasurable and mind-numbing thing to do, as selfish as it was. Even moreso now that Yami was involved.

Very involved. He had made the regal man so very involved, though he wasn't sure what spurred him. Anger, at first, knowing that he had to have been a better player. Had to. No one cheated at a game without being good enough to cheat at it—at least not in the sense that Yami seemed to have concocted. Forcing the man's hand was the only way to know the truth, to hopefully savour more of Yami's time, to have another, more enticed experience the next time. Where it wouldn't be anger but something akin to lust. He did seem to lust over those eyes, those lips.

Sitting in a chair beside Mokuba's bed, he motioned for the nurse to leave to give them a little peace and quiet. He could see that, even though Mokuba's eyes were pressed closed, he wasn't sleeping. So when he asked: "You mad at me, nii-sama?" he wasn't surprised to hear it.

"Why would I be mad?"

Mokuba turned on his side, dragging half the comforter with him and contorting it as he tried to adjust to the IV line. "I dunno," he shrugged. "Because...you had to rush home."

Kaiba folded his arms over his chest. "Mokuba, it was important."

"Not really. It was just puke; little kids do that all the time and their parents don't come home."

"You're not most kids," Kaiba replied.

"Yeah, well, you..." Mokuba drawled off, continuing to struggle with the comforter as he mumbled something until it turned into a wheeze. Kaiba leaned forward. "...never mind."

"No, not never mind, Mokuba."

"Its nothing, nii-sama, really I just sorta..."he chewed on his lip, "I heard what you and Dr. Ishtar were talking about."

"I see." Kaiba unfolded his arms and moved over to sit on the edge of the bed, untangling the blanket from around Mokuba before he yanked the IV out. "And you think that makes me mad at you?"

Another shrug. "Well maybe not mad," he admitted. "Just disappointed; not like, at me, but that you have to drop everything for me. Like playing cards..."

Kaiba hated how perceptive Mokuba could be. He forgot, sometimes, that he wasn't a kid anymore. That he saw things and made his own assumptions and opinions. He was growing up, even if his body suggested otherwise. It wasn't as if Mokuba wasn't sharp as a tack, even when ill and groggy. It was bitingly sincere.

"I played enough, trust me," he said. "I was getting carried away, anyways."

Mokuba seemed suspicious. "Yeah? Why, was Mai being obnoxious again?"

"No. Though she wanted to play," Kaiba said, snorting and shaking his head. "No it was...well," how did he describe Yami safely. Different from Mai, certainly. Exponentially so. "I think I found someone else to play with. He's...intriguing."

"Oh?" Mokuba asked, sitting upright. "Soooo, is he a friend?"

Friend. That word would have been a little loose. Yami wasn't really anything but a person across the table, as they all were, but...he had bought the challenge, and the companionship, for the next time around.

"That might be a strong word for it."

"He is, isn't he?" Mokuba drew his arms up around his knees, burying his face in them as he began coughing again. Kaiba nudged then back down as the IV pulled.

"Lay down."

"Is he, Seto?"

"Go to sleep, Moki."

"He is," Mokuba said, and rested back. He continued to stare at Kaiba with a sad smile. "I took you away from a friend."

The comforter was pulled back up, perhaps a little too far to try and urge Mokuba to quiet down and rest while he wheezed. The more he spoke about it, the more Kaiba thought about what he was missing as he had rushed home. It didn't feel like much, or seem like much, in the interim, but Yami was a plague in his thoughts; a splash of colour against the dull, grey world.

"You didn't."

 _But maybe you did_ , he thought. And bit those thoughts down, unsure where they had come from.

Standing, he bid Mokuba goodnight, getting a muffled response as he stepped out and headed towards his own bedroom.

Mokuba couldn't see him like this, so conflicted. He already thought it was his fault, that he had done something disastrous. And it wasn't. It really, really wasn't.

It was all just poor timing. Like everything else in Kaiba's life.

After an arduous week where he felt as if he had spent more time at the office than at home, a week where sleep had been missed in lieu of settling down a sea of enraged stockholders demanding why the last fiscal quarter hadn't met their expectations, a week where he had been told about the 'good progress' that Mokuba was making health-wise, the only thing that Kaiba had wanted as a few hours of peace. A few hours to himself, where it was no one but him and his pleasure.

Even if his pleasure was the dim and degenerate atmosphere of the poker room, now dotted with Yami's presence. That was a different kind of pleasure. The kind that wrecked havoc on his body, that made his veins throb beneath the skin. Made his member throb beneath his slacks. He wasn't sure if he was excited by the thought of challenging Yami again, or by him as a whole. Deep eyes, coy lips upturned in a smile (always a smile), and his willowy curved figure...his words may have been infuriatingly curious and cryptic, but his body said everything it needed to.

Gliding into the bedroom and undressing, trying to ignore the twitch of the erection between his legs, Kaiba turned on the shower and stepped in, standing beneath the water and basking in the warmth. He braced himself against the wall and closed his eyes while his cock begged to be touched. Not yet. No. Just a moment more to draw out the colourful picture of Yami in his mind, but not just any picture—that sudden look of shock on his face as the money was thrown towards him, his mouth contorted into small 'o', the rest of him enamoured and beautiful (was he blushing?) as he delicately fingered the chips, unsure but excited. What could those slender fingers do?

Kaiba's hand slid down his abdomen and settled on his cock, rubbing slow and rhythmic to the thought, biting down on his tongue.

Yami had made such a soft little noise of surprise, a high pitched catch of his breath. How Kaiba wondered if he could continue to cause those noises the next time around. His hand pumped furiously to that thought, not wasting a single breath or pulsating, pleasured motion as he let out his own soft groan, muted by the hiss of the water.

Kaiba closed his eyes as the arousal heightened itself. The sensations pooled together at the base of his stomach, his toes curling in and calves tightening. Heart racing. He wheeled backwards, his back striking the wall as a flash of Yami wetting his lips with his tongue, slow and tender, came to mind. What could he do with that tongue?

His heart was skipping every other beat while he sucked in greedy, panted breaths, imagining the warmth of the water sliding down his face wasn't just water, but the gentle, pitted feeling of fingers over his body, a tongue running down his neck, soft lips suckling until they stained his skin.

Hot liquid rushed out faster than Kaiba willed it, pooling in his hand and down his shaft; between his thighs. He slid down the wall, sitting on the floor of the shower. Water washed the cum away quickly, hiding the evidence as his head spun in light-headed bliss that he wished would have stayed. It soon collided with confusion, fear.

He had just paid Yami $800 for _that_?

No. No that wasn't what it was for.

Was it?

—

A week passed in haste, with Yami finding himself somewhere between excited and nervous when he stepped through the doors of the casino, handing off his ID to a scrutinising security guard while he scanned the floor. He wasn't sure what he was expecting—that Kaiba would jump out of the walls, perhaps, attack him on sight. As if he had been waiting for him to arrive for days.

Joey was far ahead of him, passing through and making idle conversation with people, looking over his shoulder to be sure that Yami was meandering behind him.

Once inside the poker room, seeing nearly all the tables open and full compared to most days, Yami realised they would be left waiting for a few minutes or more for a seat at a table. Joey put their names in, emphasising that they wanted to sit at the same table if possible.

Yami passed another cursory glance around the room. He didn't see Kaiba, and suspected if he was present it would have been at a much quieter table. Maybe this would be a normal night, to his dismay. "Moneybags ain't here?"

"I don't believe so."

"Oh well. You an' me against the world, buddy," Joey said, slinging his arm over Yami's shoulder. "I'm gonna go play blackjack, see if I ain't gotten luckier at that. Wanna play?"

As if he had much of a choice. Joey was dragging him across the room, picking one of the table games and plopping them down at the game. It was always a go-to waiting game, buying in for a small sum, hoping it would last, and waiting for a waitress to pass around and ask them if they wanted drinks.

It was also a game that Yami enjoyed for the sake of the math involved. But not the simple math that people typically used in the game. He didn't care if his hand was at fifteen, seventeen, or twelve. It was a matter of assigning a value to the cards and, a he watched each hand play out, figuring out when the best moment to raise a bet was, based on a running total.

Card counting, as they called it.

Joey was none the wiser, watching him place bets and batting his arm when he won or making disappointed grunts when they lost. As the chance of the aces, kings, queens and jacks became higher, he began to raise his bet, though only just. There wasn't much to raise, though he had found a small pile growing in front of him. More to play on the poker table. If they were ever called.

He and Joey hadn't noticed the time passing. They were having a good time, and it was only that Joey was on his second beer that Yami guessed it had been the better part of an hour. He had planned on taking a break from the game, maybe moving to another table before anyone grew the wiser, but another hand was coming out, and he had calculated it was time to put up a sizeable bet.

As the decision came to him, whether to hit for another card or to stand. he looked down at the cards dealt to him. Fourteen total. Dealer was at twelve. His running count suggested that he had a higher chance that the next card would push him to nineteen or twenty, twenty one if he was lucky, without busting. He almost tapped his hand on the table to call for the next cards, but was stopped by the feeling of a hand on his shoulder.

"Stand."

Yami froze, narrowly looking over his shoulder. He recognised Kaiba's voice, but didn't dare look him in the eye.

Maybe he did hide in the walls.

"Why? The number is low."

"Just listen to me. Stand," Kaiba commanded again. His hand slipped away. Yami waved his hand over the cards. The rest of the cards came out to other players and, finally, the dealer. The dealer busted. His bet was paid. "Good, now get up. You and I need to talk."

Joey side-eyed Yami and gave him a curt nod. "Call me if shit gets outta hand, a'right?"

Kaiba rolled his eyes. "I'm so scared of dog bites."

Yami tempted to chide Kaiba, but figured it was a waste of breath. He walked ahead, with Kaiba's quick strides catching up to him and going beyond. Once they were far enough away, he asked: "How did you know I should have stayed back there?"

"Because your number was wrong."

"Ah. So you were counting, too?" Yami asked, his voice softening. There weren't any security guards walking around them, but he still said it with caution. Kaiba nodded. "Were you standing back there for a while?"

"Fifteen minutes."

"Why?"

"Curious to see how you played," Kaiba said.

"Trying to form a strategy against me?"

Kaiba didn't answer and, instead, led him to the corner of the bar and had them sit in a secluded booth, out and away from the globs of people that stood around staring at televisions portraying the results of different sports games and horse races. Just as glassy eyed as the slot players, though they were shouting much louder yelling 'go three, hurry up five!' as if the horses were in front of them.

"What do we need to talk about?" Yami asked.

"You wanted to discuss details. So do I."

"Yes, you mentioned that I could set the price as well," Yami said. His hands folded together in front of him. "I...can't really say I understand this, though."

"Simple: you play like you probably want to, you get paid to do so, and I get a decent opponent for once," Kaiba said. "Perhaps with the fringe benefit of whatever little side game you've come up with."

"Like the questions," Yami said, grinning. So he had entertained a Kaiba enough with that. "I think you're overestimating skill here. What I have is no more than luck."

"I've heard otherwise." Yami blinked a few times. Had Kaiba looked into him already? Somewhere, he imagined there was some kind of folder with all his details written in it. "And seen it—you don't card count if you don't know way you're doing. You don't play a con at a poker table if you don't have some kind of plan. Even if your con was terrible. You kept running the risk of losing."

"I run the risk of losing with you, too."

"But not losing money; that is what you need, isn't it?"

"Everyone needs money," Yami replied, coy.

Kaiba smirked. "Almost everyone. Name a price to start, Yami."

God, the way Kaiba said his name...he was glad to be wearing long sleeves. Kaiba couldn't see the goosebumps.

"You're asking me to put a price on myself."

Kaiba shrugged. "People do it everyday. Employees all have a price."

Half-lidding his eyes, amused, he asked: "Would this make me your employee? I somehow doubt I would be on KaibaCorp's payroll." How jealous Yugi would be if that were true. Not that he could explain this all that well—not that he had explained it to Yugi. Yet.

"No."

"That's a shame."

Kaiba arched a brow. "Is it?"

"It would put you in a delicate place," Yami said. "Being the boss of an 'employee' who is on the books but is, well, something like a paid companion. Whether or not anything happens, people will see things as they want to. Won't they?"

Fire entered Kaiba's eyes. "It might be more risk to you than me."

"Mm, I don't think so."

"You don't know the media like I do."

"They are your friend, I've noticed," Yami said. "Unless, of course, you do something wrong. What would they say about you? Having a male companion that you were paying for 'entertainment'." He made sure his voice was raised a little bit. In doing so, he caught Kaiba's eyes dart to the side and back. But he caught the skeletal remnants of a smile.

Kaiba folded his hands in front of him. "Do you want paperwork involved?" Yami shrugged. "It can be arranged. You name a number and I can have something drawn up by tomorrow."

"And tonight?"

"Getting to know the rules."

Yami leaned his cheek in his hand. "Mm, there's rules now."

"They'll be included in the contract." Contract. He was going to have a contract. With KaibaCorp. Filed away in some HR spreadsheet. "Name your number."

It should have been easy. Just tell him something, anything, that he thought would make it easier on the family. Anything that would make their living situation less cramped, but would also not suspicious. But he didn't want to sell himself short, either. Kaiba was a man of means, surely he expected Yami to say something ridiculous. Maybe they would settled on a price if he went too high. "We seem to be doing this weekly, so on a weekly basis?...fifteen hundred?" Half to him, half to Joey. Seemed fair. 3000 a month. That would do. More than do.

Yami awaited fallout, but Kaiba just started laughing A dragon indeed, his laughter like a growl, low and rumbling. But in that laugh was a smile, brightening his cheeks and his eyes. He looked his age for once.

"Weekly?" Kaiba asked. He buckled down the laughter, his eyes widened and head shaking. "Alright. Weekly. Fine."

Yami lifted from his hand. "You expected something different?"

"Hourly."

Hourly? _Hourly_?!

Yami swallowed thickly. "I...you don't mean the same number, do you?" Kaiba remained silent, his hands pulling away from the table and seemed relaxed. "Do you?"

"I don't know, Yami—" Yami thighs clenched closed, "do I? What is your thrill worth?"

The tables had turned on him. This was his risk, his thrill. Leaning his chin on knit fingers, Yami thought about the question, but not much. He was more enthused by the fact that he was right: this was going to fun, dealing with Kaiba this way. As dangerous as it could get if they kept upping the stakes with one another, Yami would be lying to himself if he said that he didn't want this as much as Kaiba seemed to need it. He would just have to get creative with the risks. Up the ante with the challenges; he was sure he could figure that out.

"...hourly, then," Yami agreed. Kaiba looked so smug, so satisfied. He needed to smile like that more, it was so good on his face. He hoped he had guessed right about Kaiba's orientation, even if he was quiet about it. Or maybe not. If things kept up like this, moving fast like this. "What about the rules?"

"I was thinking we could set them as we play tonight," Kaiba replied.

An idea struck Yami immediately. "Each time one of us wins a hand, the person who won gets to set a rule."

"Agreed. Once we're done for the night, I'll gather all the rules up and we can meet again to finalise everything." Before they left out of the booth, Kaiba extended his hand towards Yami. He stared down at it, almost forgetting that he was dealing with a businessman. "Welcome to Kaiba Corporation."

Yami shook Kaiba's hand, firm, holding it long enough to feel how soft they were. "Thank you, Mr. Kaiba."

"Just Kaiba is fine." Their hands dropped away.

"But not Seto, I assume?"

"Hn." Kaiba's head knocked to the side, a little glint in his eye. "I dunno, Yami. Play me and find out?"

Another tremble, hands clenched. _Only if you keep saying my name_ , he begged with his eyes, but said:

"You're on."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, two fun facts today: 
> 
> Yes, dealers/casino staff have names for players that have...reputations. At my place of work, currently we have:
> 
> Mr. Congeniality  
> Politico  
> Pikachu  
> Black Chip  
> TV  
> ....and many more....
> 
> Two: standard poker hand rankings from lowest to highest. These are the best five cards played, essentially. 
> 
> High-card  
> Pair -two of the same card  
> Two pair -double the above  
> Three of a kind (Trips) -three of the same card  
> Straight -five cards in numerical order (ex. Ace, 2, 3, 4, 5)  
> Flush - five cards of the same suit  
> Full House - a set of trips with a pair (333/22)  
> Four of a kind (Quads) - four of the same card  
> Straight flush - five cards of the same suit AND in numerical order  
> Royal Flush - Ten, Jack, Queen, King, and Ace all in the same suit. 
> 
> Til next time! Tell me what you think!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp, this thing finally happened. All at once. As chapters do. Enjoy!

Kaiba didn't talk to Yami once they had finished their deal. It was more interesting to let him simmer in curiosity, ponder what sorts of rules he wanted in play. It hadn't been Kaiba's intention to have them do any sort of contract—but he had to agree with Yami: it upped the stakes, made his heart race. Once the contract was in place, Yami was his for whatever amount of time they determined. _If_ they determined a time.

Oh.

Oh that was beautiful. That had to be the place to start.

Kaiba kept his grin buttoned down in case Yami was watching him. The shorter man was following him like a lost little lamb, always several paces behind as he made his stop at the cashier's cage, pulling out his safety deposit box to grab whatever money was necessary for there evening and, after, heading towards the table he had requested as soon as they arrived.

Along the way, he passed a clear tray of chips over to Yami.

"What is this for?" Yami asked.

"A little incentive."

Yami arched a brow, fingers sliding between the chips delicately, counting. This brows heightened the higher the number became. His mouth formed the little 'o' (was it such an easy expression?), his eyes glinting.

"Incentive? Do I keep this?"

"If you can win it."

Yami smiled, soft. "Ah, I see. My money's not enough for you then?"

Kaiba shrugged. "You're not the only one that can play games," he said, and he glanced to Yami at the right time. Wonder danced on his face as he wrapped his mind around the amount in his hands. It was coupled with a subdued, but confident fury that, as they reached the far corner of the poker room, made Yami's eyes glow in the dull light.

The table that had been prepared for them in a mostly empty space, where the raucous din of the other patrons wasn't as distracting. Coupled with its low light, occasionally dotted with the kaleidoscopic strips of lights from above, it gave off an air of private intimacy. A separation from the rest of the world, and Kaiba could see the wonder in Yami's face widening. He didn't know those angular eyes could grow so round and make his face so...soft. Almost kissable.

 _Too soon_ , Kaiba thought. The night hadn't even begun yet.

"I get a taste of how the privileged get to play?" Yami said as they sat down. "You spoil me already."

"Welcome to my world," Kaiba smirked. He upturned the rack of chips, settling them neatly over one another, with the highest denominations set on the bottom. Yami mimed him, matching the coloured lines on the edges. "Don't let it intimidate you too much."

Yami chuckled. "Who said anything about it being intimidating?"

The table they sat at, compared to oblong ones scattered across the room, was smaller. Shaped like an octagon, it was able to fit six people comfortably. Barely sat down, and Yami was already leaned forward, commanding his seat and keeping the space between them small. A breath away from one another.

It was a tactic, Kaiba was sure. He didn't doubt there was some discomfort—Yami had practically drooled over the money when it was handed to him. But the bluffing had started, and Yami was all smiles.

That was just fine. He could stare at Yami's plump lips all night.

"How are we keeping track of what's going in the contract?" Yami asked.

Kaiba pulled out his phone and sat it on the railing between them. He tapped an app open. "Easy. Record it."

The doe-eyed dealer sucked in a breath. "Mr. Kaiba, we can't have any recording devices on the—," A black chip was tossed towards the dealer, his brows raised. It was taken, tapped against the side of a box, and dropped in. "What game are we playing today, gentleman?"

"100-200, no limit to start," Kaiba replied. He waited for Yami's objection, but only saw him counting the chips before nodding to himself. "Not much different from your 1-2 games."

"Mm. A few more zeroes," Yami commented.

Kaiba began recording their conversation as soon as the first blind bets were paid. The community was dealt, and the cards were tossed between them. Kaiba eyed Yami, flicking between his face and his hands, ready to say something if Yami instinctually played without looking. Instead, the tri-colour haired man hitched up, kneeing the seat as he cupped one hand over the other. He delicately raised his cards, barely separating them to look, before laying them flat again.

Kaiba snorted. "Is that supposed to be your serious pose?"

"It makes me more comfortable," Yami replied.

"Hn." Kaiba consulted his cards. King and eight of clubs. "So you're nervous?"

Yami pushed in a black chip. "Call."

"Not answering is the same as saying 'yes'."

"Is that so?" Yami asked. "Then I have to wonder about you not answering one of my questions from last week."

"About the sex? I answered it," Kaiba said, briefly turning to the dealer to say 'check' before looking back to Yami.

"In a way," Yami said. He paused as the flop was turned over. King is hearts, three of hearts, and three of clubs. Yami raised. Kaiba called. "But it was rather roundabout."

"So was the question," Kaiba said.

"That you don't always sleep with women?" Yami asked. Bet. Raise. Call. "It's an implicit question."

Kaiba scoffed. "I don't think you know what 'implicit' means."

Yami bridged his hands and set his chin on them. "Then I'll be direct: Kaiba, are you interested in men?"

Kaiba pinched his lips tight, looking to the community as the river was revealed. Queen of clubs. It gave him two pair, strong enough to beat plenty of hands. It was Yami's digging question that had him curious. Plenty of people had tried to use their mouths to try and best him, to throw him off course with ridiculous statements and outlandish questions. He had to wonder if Yami was that type. No. That was the blond mutt. Yami was silent and alert, always watching.

Perhaps this was something more genuine.

"I am," Kaiba replied. Quick and curt. He might have regretted it otherwise.

Yami's nostrils flared as he raised, some wild emotion rippling across his features for half a second before being swallowed behind a wide smile.

"You knew the answer already," Kaiba concluded. He re-raised.

"Perhaps."

"Then why ask?"

Yami shrugged. A flippant response, one that left him teetering on the verge of regret. But the honesty wasn't unwarranted, because he saw the expression that had been painted on Yami's face for that fraction of a moment. It wasn't malicious; curious at worst or, if Kaiba had sized Yami up right, maybe even pleased.

Because God did Yami make the most pleasurable faces. Faces that were lyrically cryptic, even without words.

"Reveal hands," said the dealer. Both hands were flipped over. To Kaiba's dismay, Yami beat his two pair with three-of-a-kind. The pot was taken, the chips counted beneath Yami's breath before he gave a small tip to the dealer.

"This means I make the first rule," Yami muttered, excited. Kaiba barely nodded before Yami shot out: "We're not going outside of this area."

Odd. Kaiba canted his head. "Clarify?"

"The casino. It's surrounding areas," Yami said, his fingers swirling over a small space on the table.

Of all the things that Yami could have requested first, settling where they were going to meet hadn't crossed Kaiba's mind. It felt obvious. Though, given the potential of different stakes and games, setting parameters was important.

His train of thought was derailed as the next hand was dealt. Again, Yami hitched himself up, and this time his ass was almost completely in view—it had quite a roundness.

Several loud heartbeats went by before Kaiba realised he'd been biting his thumbnail in his stare, mentally reprimanding himself for such a barbaric little habit. It dropped away. He knew better. His hands had been slapped plenty of times as a child. That said, he also knew better than to leer, but Yami was putting on a show. One he considered was intentional. "Interesting first rule."

"We need to have a workplace," Yami said, and he looked up to the ceiling and the surrounding walls.

"Workplace," Kaiba repeated. A ribbon of blue light slowly changed to magenta, high-lighting the arch of Yami's cheeks. Kaiba bit the inside of his cheek. "You're getting boring again."

Yami chuckled. "Boring? What sorts of rules were you imagining?"

Call. Check. Flop was revealed. "What do you think I'm imagining?" Kaiba asked.

Bet. Call. Turn was revealed. Yami paused a moment, sucking on his lip and peaking at his cards again. "Well, we're just playing games. I don't see our rules being very complicated."

"Please," Kaiba scoffed. He raised in spite of his bad cards, just to watch Yami squirm. "'Whether or not anything happens with a male companion', you said. You don't make those kinds of implications unless you have specific games, and rules, in mind for us."

Yami matched the raise. The river was revealed. Kaiba's knew his cards were useless but bet anyways. His question had Yami in pause, thinking about something other than the game, judging by his glassy look.

"Mm, but you said I don't what 'implicit' means," Yami said, coy.

Kaiba grit his teeth. Alluring, but annoying. How could he be two sides of the same coin?

"Meaning the games are related to your interest in who I like to fuck."

Yami flinched before folding his hand. "So crude."

"No, just honest." Kaiba said. He counted the pot as it pushed to him. "Am I right, Yami?"

Hues of beet red bloomed on Yami's face before he was able to duck his head down. It was almost a bruised colour on his sun-kissed cheeks, something so much stronger than the twinkling lights overhead. Kaiba hitched his breath, examining the way that Yami twitched, his hands clasped in one another and pulling on the ends of his sleeves. He had shifted in his seat, leaning off to the side and readjusting his legs. Hm. Such a curious little man.

"Perhaps," Yami finally replied, raising his head. "But there's no game. Not yet."

"But there will be." Kaiba said. A statement, not a question.

Yami shrugged. "I believe it's your turn to pick a rule, Seto."

"Kaiba."

"My apologies. I haven't won that right yet, have I?" Yami asked, indignant, hands up in surrender. As if he knew it would be grating. "Your rule?"

"Addendum to yours: the hotel attached to this casino is considered part of its property. Therefore, our games can be played there."

Yami's heart thrummed against his ribs, making it almost impossible to breathe. His immediate reaction to try and secure the detail that Joey had mentioned, that they shouldn't have gone off premises, had been toyed with so expertly. He’d been foolish; Kaiba had given him an out when asking for clarification—well, that was his loss. Or his gain.

A sweat slickedpalm ran down his thigh, his legs pressing together as far as he could manage. The tight pants weren't doing his cock any favours.

Kaiba stared at him, smug as his eyes traced Yami's outline. His modest dress was saving him for the evening. For every twitch Kaiba saw, there was a curl of the toes, or a shiver up his spine. As soon as Kaiba affirmed Yami's curiosity, he began to wonder what kind of lover the brunet was. Slow, fast, deliberate, sudden? Demanding, probably. Upfront about his expectations. At least Yami wouldn't have to take any guesses.

The cards were pitched out to them for the next round. Shielding his reveal, Yami barely glanced at the numbers, still thinking. Was that Kaiba's ultimate goal? Getting him upstairs in a bed and _showing_ him just what kind of lover Kaiba really was? Did Yami really want to know that badly?

Yes. But also no.

Kaiba wasn't going to get it. Not without earning it. Because then, maybe, the whole game would end as soon as it started. The money was still necessary.

Kaiba folded his cards. Yami mimed, not recalling his hand.

Fiddling with his chips, lining up the edges before taking a small stack and cutting it, shuffling it one-handed, Yami thought. Long and hard. How could he turn this into a game? This one didn't come as easy as before...but, ultimately, it was just making a goal for Kaiba. And he had already said something about the hotel.

"I have a suggestion," Yami said. "A side bet."

The next hand was dealt. Kaiba slipped his thumb beneath the corner of the cards. "Oh?"

"If I win three games in a row, I win the right to call you 'Seto'," Yami said. He looked at his cards. Seven of hearts, two of clubs. The worst hand in poker. Great.

"And when I win three in a row?"

"So full of confidence," Yami chuckled, and he he leaned forward on the railing. "You win the right to...show me the hotel. Spoil me more?"

Check. Raise. Call. Flop came out. Both of them had looked to the phone, at the flashing light of the recording app, and back at one another. Discretion, in a way they both agreed on.

"Are you sure?" Kaiba asked. His voice was neutral, but Yami detected the barest hint of concern.

Shallowly, he nodded. For Yugi and Solomon, he was sure. For college, he was sure. And maybe, deep down somewhere, swimming in the pool of Kaiba's cobalt eyes, he really was. Because a smile popped onto his face and, ultimately, because Kaiba _had_ asked.

But God, he was so conflicted.

There was always the urge to win. He hated to admit it, but Kaiba had been right. While playing games was usually meant for fun, a casino wasn't the kind of place people went to entertain themselves. They may have thought so, because that was what it billed itself as: entertainment. But, no matter how deluded gamblers were, how logical they thought they were, they were still not sensible. This wasn't fun, it was elected torture by luck and chance. They were all here for the win. Even him. Even Kaiba.

Except for now. Now, Yami almost willing to lose just to assuage his curiosity. To see what happened if they went up to a hotel room alone. Because Kaiba was smiling. Unabashed, almost too soft for the hard lines on his face. The smile probably didn't even know it was there until it slithered away. Yami sensed the expression was foreign to Kaiba, just by how rare it was. Or rather, by how he didn't even bother to force it for pleasantries, for media. Someone as powerful as Kaiba could forgo those kind of societal norms, those fake façades. No one would question him—except Yami. He was going to question everything and, perhaps by the luck of their games, change the blankness in Kaiba's face.

Yami couldn't lose, he concluded. Not yet. Not so easily. There was a tether between him and Kaiba now. Kaiba was precariously on the end, threatening to let go, but looking up with second-thoughts. Whether or not Yami found out why Kaiba felt this way (or he supposed Kaiba felt this way) was going to be secondary. He would make Kaiba hold on.

"Call or raise?" The dealer asked.

Yami drew from his little reverie. The cards spun to a stop beneath his fingers, and he peered at them again. "Call," he said, throwing the money in.

The turn came out. Yami had even looked at the flop when betting. The board was all high cards. King of clubs, king of hearts, queen of spades, and the turn was now the ace of spades. Terrible. Useless.

Kaiba's shoulders were squared. If he hadn't been serious before, he was now. Focused. Wanting to win his prize. Kaiba bet. Yami raised. Kaiba re-raised. The river came out. Six of spades.

Reluctantly, Yami folded.

"One for me," said Kaiba.

Yami smiled. "And another rule for you as well."

"Easy: length of contract. One month, minimum, with reevaluations being made at the end of each months to see if we'll continue."

Yami brows raised, surprised and amused. A job for a month, at least. "Performance reviews?" He asked. What kind of performance was Kaiba expecting?

"Something like that."

"Fine by me."

The next hand came out. They remained silent, simmering in their seriousness. Joey was right, Kaiba was a very serious card player. He didn't waste time thinking about his moves, and rarely spoke unless it was necessary. But there was a passioned fire in his eyes.

Yami played conservatively, betting low and raising only when he needed to, watching how Kaiba reacted. His movement were tight, concise. His elbows stayed close to his sides. As if it was blasphemous to touch the table. He only leaned forward in anger, if Yami judged their last game. But everyone had a tell.

And as they reached the end of the hand, he gathered one thing: Kaiba liked a little flare. Whenever he was confident, he twisted the chips as he tossed them in, as opposed to simply throwing them. His quick, aggressive moves likely hid it from less suspecting players.

As a test, Yami checked at the end. Kaiba bet, twisting his chips. Yami matched. He was going to lose, but the information was more important.

A pair of kings. Strong hand. Now, he could only wonder with what kinds of cards Kaiba would show his tell.

"That's two. I thought you were a good player, Yami."

 _How do you make my name sound so...good? Do you roll your tongue?_ Yami asked. What else could that tongue do?

A shuddered breath escaped him instead of words. Kaiba was staring, but that didn't stop his hand from resting between his legs, against the aching of his thighs. Narrowly, his fingers stroked down the seam of his jeans, twitching beneath the fabric, though he subdued anymore noises. "You said you thought I was. I told you it was j-just luck..."

Kaiba smirked. "Still nervous?"

"No." Yami cursed himself. Of course Kaiba heard his slips. "It's just warm in here."

"Then take off your jacket."

Yami forced his hand away from his legs, curling it into a fist. "I'll be fine. Thank you for your concern."

"Concern?" Kaiba scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself, Yami."

Whatever anger rose to Kaiba's callousness died with another shudder. Yami forced his hand up onto the table, knowing he had to focus. "It's your rule, Kaiba."

"We will keep this between us. Only us. And no one else will know the details under any circumstances," Kaiba said. "That includes your flea-bitten boyfriend."

"He's not my—"

"Don't care," Kaiba said. "In fairness, this rule means I also won't tell anyone."

Yami's jaw clenched, and he spat: "Do you even have anyone to tell besides the media?"

Kaiba looked off for a moment, nodding. "I do. I have a little brother."

"Siblings don't tell each other everything," Yami said, quiet. "...I don't tell my twin everything I do."

"That's your failure to your family," Kaiba hissed. A violent expression, like a mother bear protecting her cub, hitched onto Kaiba's face. Yami wasn't even aware he had brother, likely kept that way for the younger Kaiba's privacy, let alone was so ferocious about the relationship. There was so much about Kaiba he didn't know. So much he wanted to learn.

"Perhaps," Yami agreed. It was failure. Up until this point, he explained nothing to Yugi. With this rule, he wouldn't have to.

Kaiba pulled back, a bemused look replacing his aggression. He regarded Yami with even sharper looks. "You have a twin?"

"I do. And I promise he will know nothing."

"Promises are weak," Kaiba said. "Pointless. Don't be so naîve."

"You know what I mean, Kaiba. This is being recorded," Yami said hotly. While there were so many parts of Kaiba that were seductive, his mouth certainly wasn't one of them. To say his name, yes, but everything else didn't know how to come out kindly. "This will stay between us. Only us."

"Agreed."

The cards were thrown out again. He couldn't have Kaiba win this one. Bet. Raise. Kaiba wasn't twisting the chips. Bad hand?

Yami raised on the flop. Kaiba called. The turn came out. Bet, call. The river. Kaiba raised, Yami re-raised. There was no reluctance in Kaiba's call besides a heavy throw. No showmanship.

Yami won with two pair.

"My turn," Yami said. And thought a moment. "These meetings will be once a week."

"Only?"

Another instance where Kaiba was giving him a chance to set parameters, Yami mused. There was nothing wrong with meeting more than once a week. He was being paid hourly. "At least once a week. It could happen more."

Another hand was dealt. Every toss of the chips was as quick as the last, and Yami had almost not seen the way Kaiba was throwing. Only near the end did he see long fingers spinning. A good hand? Still, Yami foolishly tried to outraise him, thinking his ace was strong enough.

Kaiba won.

"My rule," Kaiba said, smug. "We will meet on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. We can make use of the hotel for overnights, if necessary."

Yami smiled. Interesting. He had been right on the nose when he picked this game.

Another hand began, and Yami noticed Kaiba's elegant fervour, throwing the chips in with grace. Such graceful hands. Kaiba's hands had been soft in the handshake—thinking that made Yami want to fold, to give Kaiba the win just to find out how those hands felt. No. He couldn't. This was still a game...he had to keep the stakes up, make it interesting.

He lost, his decision on folding moot. "Hn. That's two again. Yami, you're getting boring."

"I can't help bad cards," Yami said. He melted back into his seat. He hadn't even been hitching up anymore; part of him was afraid Kaiba would his erection, becoming worse each time his name was said. He was convinced Kaiba knew it caused reaction; he hadn't hid it well enough.

"A good player can make use of bad cards," Kaiba said. "My rule: in the event that we can't meet one week, we should make it up the next. An extra day with one another."

"Mm, aren't you eager?" Yami agreed. The next cards came out. A pair of aces. He played it cool against Kaiba, but when a third ace came on the board, he was more than confident, thought his bets were still low. When he won, he saw a grimace appear on Kaiba's face. "The third day will be a Saturday," Yami ruled.

The next hand went just as quickly, with Yami noting that Kaiba was betting with more aggression. Flicking out chips instead of tossing or twisting. Maybe he had noticed that Yami was watching for a tell. It didn't matter. Two pair for the win. Yami subdued his glow.

"Your rule, Yami?"

"We can play more than poker," he said. "I'd love to make side bets on table games with you."

"Sucker games."

"It'll keep things fresh," Yami reasoned. "That way neither of us gets bored."

"...fine."

Another hand came out, and Yami lamented his cards. Two of diamonds, six of clubs. They could make a straight, but he doubted it. So low of cards...he would have to fight for this win. He decided that he was going to win—he wanted to keep holding prize out in front of Kaiba, as enticing as it was for both of them. If Kaiba never won, then the prize of wandering upstairs was always available, narrowly out of reach.

So Yami stalled in every bet he made, drawing out each terse moment. Kaiba liked things fast—playing to his impatience could be a new tactic, Yami mused. Maybe then the brunet would slip. If not, there was another bonus. Kaiba mocked him, saying: "You can always fold, Yami."

_Yami, Yami, Yami._

Kaiba said his name like a thick heartbeat. Commanding, controlling. He took away all the blood from Yami's head, making him just a little dizzy in wonder. Was he controlling in the bedroom? The man was a CEO, he had to have some ability to be in control. Then again, Yami _had_ become his gamemaster. Maybe he the sort that liked being controlled? That was something Yami would find out. Eventually.

By the end of the river, Yami was breathless at the sound of his name. He held all of it back, not wanting to pant or make a sound. Kaiba had heard it once, he didn't want to keep giving the man ideas. Gently, he breathed from his nose as he looked over the board. A pair. A pair of sixes, second lowest on the board. His other card wouldn't even play. It nothing. Useless. Certainly nothing to go all-in over.

But he did anyway.

And Kaiba stalled. His hand laid over his stack, preparing to call the raise, but he didn't move. Instead, his eyes were questioning, looking over Yami and going back to his stack. They flicked wildly back and forth, caught in internal struggle. Indecisive didn't suit him, but Yami was almost proud. Kaiba wanted him to be a 'good' player, to play 'normal'—mission accomplished.

"Well, hello there, hun."

A woman's sultry voice broke them from the stare-down, drawing their heads up. The woman sat between them, not asking permission as she sidled close to Kaiba. She was tall, curvaceous, with thick blond curls hanging over her shoulders. Someone Yami had seen around the room, but had never interacted with. Another high-roller.

"Valentine," Kaiba regarded coldly.

"Mind if I join this game?" She asked. "You two look lonesome."

Yami smiled, leaning his hand in his cheek. "I don't care if you don't."

Kaiba's face went sour, and he quickly stacked up the necessary call, throwing it into the centre for the dealer to verify. Yami didn't let the doubt shake to the surface. He had hoped Kaiba wouldn't call at all. The man was impossible to scare into folding...

...and he should have.

The air around them drew still as Yami looked over the board. His pair of sixes held up because, as he looked at Kaiba's hand, he saw an ace and king, both clubs. Strong cards, but nothing to the board. No pair. No straight. No flush. Just a strong high card.

"Oh my goodness..."Mai gasped, turning to Yami. "You went all in on a pair of sixes?"

Yami wasn't interested in Mai's incredulous comment. Instead, he looked to Kaiba. His shoulders flattened; his hands folded over one another. He was composed in his loss—even if he wasn't really thrilled by the turn of events. Mai's interjection and Yami's third win seemed to signify an end.

"So...Seto's fine now?" Yami asked. He looked to Kaiba's phone as it began to buzz. "That's the rule, by the way. First names. No nicknames. We might as well be personable for this whole thing."

Kaiba stole up his phone, glaring at Mai as she set a hand on his wrist. He jerked up and away. "I'll be back in a moment."

With that, he swept out of the room, leaving Mai and Yami staring at each other as the pot was pushed in Yami's direction. He dropped his head, thoughts very shaken. He couldn't tell if Kaiba was upset at Mai, or the loss, or the phone call. He was chilled, nonetheless. The ache in his stomach had waned, stinging him with dissatisfaction.

"Don't let him get to you," Mai said. "Be proud! The bastard always bluffs the shit out of people. Nice for him to get his comeuppance once and a while."

Yami stacked the chips up, grinning weakly to himself. "Oh, I'm proud. I...just can't get a read on him."

"Three words: rich, narcissistic, bastard," Mai said, ticking the words off on her fingers. "They come in all shapes and sizes, but trust me, they don't change much. You wanna really know how to rile someone like that up? Don't ever agree. That type is used to getting what they want."

Yami cocked a brow. "Is that so?"

"Yep. Taken from experience," she said. "So always remember that, okay? Whether you're talking to him or playing with him. Don't ever agree. Be a little combative, and he'll melt the way you want him to."

The question of what Mai's 'experience' was lingered, but he didn't ask. Whether she meant on a card table or in life, it seemed like a universal piece of advice.

Don't ever agree.

If that was the case, he'd already messed up at some points. Agreeing to this whole game, for instance. But he wasn't letting Kaiba steam-roll him into complacency. This game was going to be shaped by the both of them. Later down the line, perhaps, that advice would come in handy.

Kaiba returned swiftly, flashing the screen of the recorder to Yami before pausing it and shoving the phone in his pocket. "That's enough for tonight."

"Oh, hun, I just got here," Mai whined.

Kaiba said nothing. His remaining chips were coloured up, the few of them clenched in his pocket. Yami looked down to stacks, placing them into the rack and finding them wobbling unevenly in his haste to count. He had to stop. The number was making his head spin.

"Yami," Kaiba said. Yami's head snapped up. "We still need to talk. Walk with me."

His lips parted, catching Mai shake her head out of the corner of his eye. Yami collected the rack in his hands and followed Kaiba across the floor. "Kaiba, what do you need to talk about?"

Kaiba looked over his shoulder, glaring, as he reached the cashier's cage. He checked out the box, slipping the chips in it. Yami tried to offer his but was pushed away. "Don't mock me," he hissed.

"Mock you? Kaiba, I don't—"

"So you reject both prizes?"

 _Both_ , Yami mouthed. The chips trembled in his hands as he thought, quickly realising what he called Kaiba. "No, Seto," he said. "But this isn't mine."

"You'll need something to play with next time. Keep it; put a box in your name."

Yami nodded. That made sense; he didn't really have the wealth to continue to play against Kaiba in high stakes games. Or rather, he hadn't until now. That was fair. This was like play money—he looked at it with no value other than playing games with Kaiba.

Yami did as Kaiba said, opening a safekeeping box and storing the chips away. Once the transaction was completed, they left. Kaiba kept ahead of Yami, saying nothing, even when they were in quieter space, near the restaurants, where the people were sparse and the light was dimmest.

"You still haven't said what we need to talk about—"

Without warning, Kaiba's hand shot to Yami's shoulder, pinning him to the wall. His hand slipped underneath Yami's jacket, his cool fingers brushing against the smaller man's warmed shoulder. "You've been teasing me all night, haven't you, Yami?"

Another shuddered breath. Heat pooled in Yami's chest. "I don't know what you're talking about..."

Kaiba began to peel Yami's jacket from his shoulder. "Are you still nervous?"

"No."

_Yes._

"You're shaking," Kaiba said. He stood with barely an inch between them. His eyes flicked to Kaiba's legs, one stepped towards, dangerously close his cock. Yami fought between thrusting out and pushing further into the wall. "Are you still warm, Yami?"

"Some."

"Then take off your jacket."

With his eyes closed, he felt Kaiba's other hand slip into the folds of his jacket, ready to pull it down his arms. That would have been okay. Just melt in the touch of Kaiba's soft hands.

"No," Yami said, grabbing Kaiba's wrists to push him away. "Don't touch me."

"And why not?"

 _Control_ , Yami thought.

His eyes opened, finding Kaiba's eyes leering at him, bearing down on him in their very imperious nature. Intense and passionate. Demanding. Would that be how he was looked at if they went upstairs?

"Because you didn't win, _Seto_ ," Kaiba's lips twitched. As if the name burned him. "So you'll have to wait. Perhaps you'll win next time."

"I will.” Kaiba didn't seem the kind of person who would beg, and Yami didn't imagine he'd get down on his knees either, but this was close enough. "Trust me, Yami, I will.” 

Yami swallowed every little yelp he wanted to make until his body trembled. Kaiba's knee pinned against his thigh, brushing close enough to make Yami writhe beneath it. He let go of one of Kaiba's wrists to nudge the knee away.

"Maybe you will," Yami said. "But in case you don't, I'll give you a taste."

Yami pulled Kaiba's other trapped hand close to his mouth, pressing the tip of his tongue to the flat of the palm, running along the heart line until he reached the base of Kaiba's thumb. The executive shifted his thumb inwards as Yami lapped his tongue up to the top, bringing his lips over it slowly. Just a taste. No further than the nail, even though Kaiba tried pressing further. His jaw set, and he nudged the thumb out, kissing the centre of the palm when he was done.

Kaiba tilted his chin up as Yami released his hand. His look of lustful surprise said plenty, lasting just long enough for Yami to imprint it in his memory.

"Tuesday?" Kaiba asked.

"Tuesday."

Wordlessly, Kaiba left. And it allowed Yami to collapse in on himself, clasping his hands together. First at his chest, hiding the heart hammering out of his skin, and again at his waist to prevent his fingers from tracing down the seam of his pants again. His fingers stretched out, begging, while he bit his lower lip to suppress a moan. He would have to wait until he got home. He was in public, after all; he couldn't be lewd.

No matter how much he wanted to be.

And Kaiba accused him of teasing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we just keep a goin’. And now there’s a recording of all this! Fun stuff. 
> 
> Casino fun facts: 
> 
> 1 - Most casinos don’t have clocks or windows, except for the front door. The lighting never changes, either. They don’t want you to know how long you’ve been in there, so most are in perpetual night. 
> 
> 2- Kaiba says ‘100-200’ and ‘1-2’. This is how most games are played. Those numbers are the ‘blinds’. Small blind and big blind bets. Essentially, they’re the baseline for what people need to bet so there’s always something in the pot. So Yami’s original games were 1 or 2 dollars. Kaiba had upped it 100 or 200. Sort of like a minimum. 
> 
> Most games played in poker games are 1-2, 2-4, 2-5, or 5-5. But I’ve seen 300-600 before. So...it varies.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! It’s been a while....
> 
> ...so here we are! And the rating’s changed! For multiple reasons.

Yami hadn't remembered his dreams for a long time. Probably since before he started college, and even then, they were never vivid. He just knew that he had dreamt when he woke up.

When he woke early in the morning after seeing Kaiba again, he cased the dark of his room, confidant he hadn't dreamt; it was too real. In his half-asleep haze, he could still feel someone's hands pressing against his thighs hard enough to bruise, running their thumb in small circles until the muscle beneath melted. He kept staring at those pale hands, with their long and thin fingers, knowing who was touching him.

Kaiba.

 _Seto. I called him Seto_ , Yami thought. _That's what he wants me to refer to him as. I won that right, but did we..._

Frantically, Yami jolted up. He patted and kicked the sheets off the side of the bed, convinced there was a person somewhere beneath them. Once he assured himself that no one else was in his bed, he became motionless and gathered his wits.

He was still soaked through with sweat, blond bangs congealed to his forehead and shirt humidly stuck to his back. None of that was quite as uncomfortable as the damp, stickiness settling between his legs and on his behind. So it had just been a dream.

Bracing back on the bed, he thought about getting up and getting to the shower—anything to get the messy clothes off—but he didn't rise immediately. He was too caught up in recalling all the pleasing details he could picture, and feel, so clearly.

Seto's hands were tempestuous. Kneading and massaging every patch of skin that they touched...and there wasn't a place that Seto's hands hadn't touched or explored. He mapped out the little sinews of Yami's skin, worshipping every piece with the feather-light touch of his nail—especially the sensitive spaces beneath his ribs, or the underside of his joints, chuckling as Yami flinched and tried to hold his composure. And for a while Yami managed, though he began to slip into frustrated agony once Seto reached his chest, spending an almost impossible amount of time tracing along the edge of his nipples and flicking them with his thumb before he pushed Yami back onto the bed.

From there, he switched to using his mouth almost exclusively, nursing the skin until it was plump and rosy, and suckling the bud of his nipple until it ached so much that a soft moan slipped out.

The build-up shook Yami down to the core, wondering where Seto could go from there. He was a slow and careful man. Studious and teasing, ignoring any pleading on Yami's part to hurry up. "Please," he remembered he said, "please...I don't think I can hold on, Seto..."

Seto said nothing. He remained silent throughout most of the affair. Almost faceless, though he came into Yami's swimming vision every so often, as if making sure he was doing everything at the utmost perfection. Finding the curves and the alleys of Yami's body that made him wriggle and gasp the most. He was successful, even if he wasn't quick. The very opposite of the kind of lover Yami expected, but it wasn't such a terrible thing.

In his dreams, Seto was a tender lover, leaving a trail of kisses up Yami's inner thigh before his tongue lapped up a vein of Yami's erection. His mouth briefly covered the tip, licking his slit before popping off to kiss back down the opposite leg. Eventually, it became too much. The sensations began to overload Yami, paralysed and pinned beneath Seto, hazily looking up into his deep blue eyes and almost losing himself in them.

Yami's hand coasted down his torso to wrap around his cock, knowing it wouldn't take much to find sweet release. He was intercepted instantly, with Seto drawing his hand away and pining his wrists to the bed.

"You're impatient," Seto reprimanded.

It was muddled, Yami thought as he dropped his legs over the edge of the bed and stripped out of his dirtied shorts. Some of the details didn't really make sense, yet he was still smiling. He was sure that Seto had both of this wrists pinned, but then he was also sure he had felt a finger, cold and slick with lube Seto hadn't had the time to apply, circling around his delicate rim.

"And you're a tease. You...ahhh..."

The delicate finger went in, almost the the knuckle, and Yami's stomach pitted as he threw his head back, digging into the soft (so, so soft) sheets. He never once wondered where they were, other than it was heavenly warm and bright, bright enough to see a gleaming bead of sweat trailing down Seto's cheek.

Yami jutted his hips closer to Seto, the pressure and heat pooling in his chest, drowning him in ecstasy as he ached dully to the feeling of his finger massaging inside of him. He fought not to clench, becoming breathless as the finger bent and scissored about to give the second digit space to slowly ease its way in, stretching him wider and preparing him for what he supposed was the inevitable thickness of the hard cock that rhythmically poked against his inner thigh. Not that Yami knew if he would get that far.

Anticipation was racking him more than the action. His body seized and trembled. His forehead beaded with sweat, and his eyes stung with tears as he panted so shortly that it felt like he was narrowly holding onto consciousness, mistaking the blood rushing in his ears as the feeling of his brain buzzing to keep him awake and focused on every flinching sensation of the Seto's fingers delicately stroking inside of him.

"Are you sure you want this?" Seto had asked.

Involuntarily, he said, "Yes," aloud in his room, the same as he had in his dream. Seto's smug expression softened and he pulled the fingers out, leaving Yami's hole chilled, twitching and wanting.

Again, logic failed him. He still felt pinned to the bed even as Seto gripped his hips and lined them up, slipping in with ease. Yami's breath hitched.

All the trepidation left him, rocking with each gentle, rhythmic thrust. One heartbeat, two heartbeats. Three...Gods, he couldn't even feel his heart beating in his chest, much less manage to string together thoughts as increasing, dizzying pleasure pooled at his base. He knew nothing but pure, unfiltered bliss, closing his eyes and biting down on his lip to stifle each sharp, miserably jubilant moan, holding back ' _please, please_ , _please, please!_ ' until his throat was raw. Seto's thumb tried to pry the lip down unsuccessfully, the crescent of his nail tugging at the corner of Yami's mouth before running across the velvet lip slowly.

The burst of euphoria had woken him, leaving him physically and emotionally spent, almost unable to sit upright, but without wanting to go back to sleep.

As Yami finally gathered the strength to trek to the bathroom, stripping the rest of his clothes in the process, he wondered if he would be able to control himself. If, when he and Seto met again, he would be able to separate his wants from Seto's needs.

Yami wanted to be the perfect gamemaster. The kind of person that could hold his player hostage, but have them still wanting more out of it. Not just them. He needed to be left wanting more, too. That didn't seemed hard if his dreams were anything to go by. Really though, Yami didn't think he wanted to be intimate, not as strongly as he thirsted to know Seto. Truly, deeply. Inside and out.

Quickly, Yami jumped in the shower and flicked the water on, holding his hand beneath it until it become hot. He stepped beneath it, letting it cascade down his shoulders and back, easing up all the taut muscles. After, he scrubbed the sweat and cum away. Once he got out, the feeling of hands pressing against his thighs returned once he towelled himself dry. They beckoned him back to the bedroom and asked him to relive the dream.

No.

He resolved not to sully his experience by indulging in fantasy. Whenever the real thing eventually happened, and Gods there seemed to be plenty of chances if Seto was so eager. He had a feeling that it was going to be better than anything his limited imagination could conjure.

—

By mid-day, Yami had been up for the better part of twelve hours and he already wanted to go to bed. The toll of last night's event weighed on his body, making his back ache and legs turn to jelly. He remembered it with less clarity, but sitting with little stimulation while he manned the front counter of the game shop was doing him no favours.

He'd already went through boxes of new inventory and set them up on the shelf. Rearranged and conditioned the messy shelves. Dusted down some of the higher shelves that ended up getting missed. Went through and discarded any expired candy.

He was left idly playing with a display of character pins on the counter, moving them about to an inch every time he swivelled around the high-backed chair. It would make it to the register eventually. It might have taken until the end of the shift, but it would make it.

"How's business?" Solomon asked.

Yami's heels dug into the bottom bar of the chair, stopping him abruptly. "I had a small rush during lunch," he said. He wasn't sure seven people was a rush. "What are you doing down here?"

"I'm not allowed to talk to my grandson?"

Yami blushed. "Of course you are."

"Good." Solomon grabbed a broom and dustpan from a utility closet and tottered to the middle of the shop floor, getting started. "You boys are always going about something. Keeps me from going crazy."

"I think you got that backwards," Yami chuckled.

"Oh?"

"We make you crazy."

Solomon shifted around to face Yami while he swept, his head bobbing in a 'maybe yes, maybe no'. "Don't tell Yugi, that," Solomon said, his finger at his lips.

"I think he knows, Gramps."

Solomon snapped his fingers. "Darn. Guess I'll have to just blame something else then. Maybe the terrible commercials on TV," he said, returning to sweeping.

Solomon coughed at varying intervals. Soft, just beneath his breath. Yami had half a mind to stop him; Yugi would have. But he couldn't deny his grandfather small things like sweeping up the shop. It had been such a long time since he had been able to man the counter, he knew that Solomon was really going stir-crazy. "Though it did give me an idea to drum up business: we should do a commercial. It's got to be a little better than those infomercials."

"That would be...interesting," Yami said. He took the dustpan from the counter and walked around to Solomon, laying it down beside a dirt pile. Solomon swept into it. "Yugi might be disappointed though. He really likes making our fliers."

"I still want him to make them. There's nothing like advertising the old-fashioned way."

An unspoken dialogue slipped between them. They both knew there was no way they'd be able to afford even a cheap commercial, but they could dream. Yami briefly wondered if, by saving the money from Seto right, they might have been able to accomplish something like that.

Mid-thought, he was derailed by a yawn. Yami covered his mouth and shook his head, widening his eyes to try and wake back up.

"Burning the candle at both ends again?"

Yami smiled sheepishly. "Something like that."

"I thought I heard the shower earlier. I figured Yugi was up early. He mentioned an exam today," Solomon said. He peered at Yami out of the corner of his eye. Something curious sat in his smile. "He also mentioned you'd made a new friend; staying up all night talking to them?"

Yami's ears sizzled. "What? No. No, nothing like that!"

A heart laugh escaped Solomon. "More than a friend! I see why Yugi was being so shy..."

Yami huffed and looked away. "Gramps..."

"It's alright, you know. I didn't really think you and Joey were going to the arcade that often." Solomon clapped a hand on Yami's shoulder. "Tell me about your new someone. What's she look like? What's her favourite food?"

"Uhhh..." Yami's throat went raw, and his guts clenched. "Well, let's see, where to begin. Hm...

For a few seconds, he tried to feign finding his words. It would have been easy to describe Seto generally. A brunet with pretty blue eyes. But then Solomon might have thought he was describing Yugi's girlfriend, Téa. He didn't want that. Besides, he wasn't supposed to be talking about Seto or their agreement. It was safer to find someone else.

Yami looked out the window. Maybe some random passerby would inspire him, because he couldn't think of a way to get out of this. Lying to Solomon wasn't something he liked to do, even if he'd been lying about anything involving the casino for months. Seto fell under that umbrella, he supposed. Not that it made him feel any better.

"Well, they're very well put together. And they have loads of self confidence," he laughed. That couldn't have been breaking contract. It was too vague. "Let's see, they..."

Before he could continue, a sleek black car pulled up to the game shop, and a man in a suit jumped up. It was only a minute before he stood in front of Yami and Solomon. "Yami Mutou?" He asked.

"Yes?"

A thick manila envelope was pulled from beneath the man's coat and handed to Yami. "For you."

Curiously, Yami took the envelope, inspecting both sides of it. His name was handwritten neatly in the centre. In the corner, a blue 'KC' logo was embossed into the paper. This must have been the contract. Seto worked quick. "Thank you. I'll look over it here soon."

"I've been instructed to stay until you've come to a decision."

"What is it, Yami?" Solomon asked. He pressed close to Yami's side. "Goodness, this is from KaibaCorp. What is this?"

Yami swallowed. More lies. "I don't know. Perhaps they've mistaken me for Yugi," he said.

Though he wasn't sure if Solomon believed him, Yami didn't know how much risk he could take with this. Of all the times for a courier to show up with a contract...he'd been alone the entire day!

Still, he opened up the envelope and pulled two copies of the contract. He began to quickly skim through the legalese. It seemed like a standard contract in the beginning. A mission statement and his role as a KaibaCorp. employee. What and what not to do. Expectations.

He flipped through all the pages fast enough that no one could read them. He caught the mention of his salary. _A ridiculous amount of money_ , he thought, and he was still reeling from the night before. Then came all their stipulations. Their rules written out in the most bland and boring way possible, so that no one would be any wiser. The two back pages were all signature lines, highlighted in bright yellow.

The courier held out a pen.

Gods, he was really doing this. This was all set in legally-binding ink. Once he scribbled his name, there was no getting out of this. This was his last chance to turn away.

Solomon began roughly coughing into his fist. That was all he needed to hear. The entire family needed help; this wasn't a choice.

Yami signed and initialed every line as quickly as he could. He returned the papers to the courier.

"Is that all?" Yami asked.

From the back of the contract, the second copy was pulled up and handed to Yami. "That's all, Mr. Mutou. Have a good day," the courier said. In a blink, the car was gone.

Yami wasn't sure what hurt more. The heaviness of the contract in his palms or the wary glance from Solomon. This probably wasn't how Seto wanted this to go—not if he wanted this to be a complete secret. But the courier may not have been given explicit enough instructions.

"Yami?" Solomon asked. "What's going on?"

Yami's arms fell to his sides. A reflexive smile stretched onto his face. "Nothing serious," he assured. That wasn't what Solomon asked.

"Then what?"

Staggering back to the counter, Yami slapped the contract on the glass and glared at it. "Promise you won't tell Yugi. Not until I know everything," Yami asked. It felt blasphemous to keep this from his twin.

Solomon nodded slowly. "It depends on what it is."

"Right," Yami breathed. He plopped onto the stool. "I'm a KaibaCorp. employee now. It wasn't something I had planned. I put out a lot of résumés a while ago hoping I might be able to bring in a bit more money."

"Yami. You didn't need to that."

Yami shook his head. "I know, I know. I didn't need to do it, but I wanted to. KaibaCorp. was just a shot in the dark. I thought," Yami paused, considering his words carefully. This was for the family. He had to remember that. "I thought if I could get my foot in the door, maybe Yugi would also have a chance when he graduated."

Solomon's face softened. "Ah. You're worried you've gone behind his back."

"Yeah." Yami lowered his chin onto his arms. "I didn't tell him because I didn't think anything would come of it. And now that it has, I'm worried about how he'll react. I don't want him to be angry with me."

"You won't know unless you tell him," Solomon said. Yami's lips thinned and he glanced away. "I won't tell him, though. That's going to have to be on you."

"I know."

A heavy wrinkle formed in Solomon's brow, one that made Yami knew he wasn't making the right choice. It wasn't even stern, just a little disappointed. That's all it took ever since he and Yugi were very small. It washed away with a small smile.

"Remember Yami: he always is, and always will be, your brother," Solomon reminded. "He'll love you no matter what."

 _Maybe if I told him the li_ e _, but what if I told him everything? How would he feel then?_ Yami thought. He sighed and nodded. Solomon was right. Yugi was always his brother. _It doesn't have to be a lie—I could try and appeal to Seto for Yugi._

"And I'll love you no matter what, too," Solomon assured.

Yami's cheeks warmed. "Love you, too Gramps. I promise, I'll tell him when I have it figured out."

"I'm sure you will."

—

For the two weeks since Mokuba had fallen ill, there hadn't been much change in his condition. His coughing had worsened significantly, and he barely kept anything down. Not that he had the energy to eat anything.

Kaiba had been home for the last three days. Ever since Ishizu had been called back to the manor and only left to take care of an emergency at her clinic. The nurse had been let go indefinitely. Though he had no proof, the fact that the woman hadn't caught whatever this sickness was in its infancy was enough for him to stop caring for her. He would find someone else.

Until then, he was by Mokuba's side, providing anything and everything he could in between keeping up with anything business related. In the times when Mokuba simmered down enough to sleep soundly (barely two or three hours at time) he would go through e-mails, make phone calls, and do any paperwork electronically. It made him itch to stay away from work; he trusted the board of directors as much as he could throw them, but he had to.

Mokuba came first.

Someone knocked on the door, and woke Kaiba from a momentary slumber. For how little Mokuba had been sleeping, he had slept less. Just enough not to start hallucinating, though colours and shapes were blurring together.

Kaiba's legs prickled as he walked to the door and opened it.

"Dinner, sir," a maid said, her head bowed.

Kaiba took the tray from her and sent away, kicking the door closed. A small moan came from Mokuba who overturned, his eyes opened to small cracks. He followed Kaiba as he sat the tray on the nightstand.

"I'm not hungry," he rasped.

"You need to eat."

"It's so gross."

"It's healthy."

Mokuba's nose curled. He buried his face in his pillow. "I don't want it."

Kaiba sighed, and he took the bowl from the tray. A vegetable soup with the pieces cut very finely, enough that it would be easy for Mokuba take in. He saw small shreds of meat between the barley as he swirled it all together.

"You have to eat it," Kaiba said. He set it close to Mokuba to try and tempt him. "Otherwise, Dr. Ishtar wants to put a feeding tube in."

"Ew."

"Exactly. Sit up and eat," he ordered. Mokuba uncurled and struggled to to push up onto the pillows. His head lulled back heavily, and he surprised a viscous cough before he agreed. Kaiba sat it back on the tray and laid it over Mokuba's lap. "It's hot."

"'Kay."

Mokuba raked the spoon through the soup, staring at it blandly, screwing his mouth around while he used the edge of the spoon to try and avoid any of the green beans and carrots. There was no celery. Mokuba wouldn't have even touched it otherwise.

Kaiba never wanted to see Mokuba suffer. When they were little, it was different. He seemed to be able to fight off the worst of his sickness. It appeared as an ever present cold. He'd grown used it, and always looked to big brother for tissues and cough drops. Anything to not be a burden on the orphanage. They cared for Mokuba as much as they could, but Kaiba was more focused on keeping it in control until they could get adopted and find proper help. No one wanted a sick kid.

Now, he wondered if there was any difference between suffering in a mansion or an orphanage. Mokuba was stuck, regardless. The best minds hadn't come up with anything yet, though he appealed as often as he could. Someone, somewhere had to know how to fix his little brother. Every day until that happened, Kaiba would simmer in the thought that he was trapping his brother, that this was somehow his fault.

He had failed.

Or close to it. He hadn't tried hard enough, worked hard enough, spent enough time caring. He just watched and hoped that nothing would happen...and yet it still did. That was the same thing as failing.

Unless failing meant...

No. He wouldn't think that.

"I don't want this."

Kaiba glanced to Mokuba and frowned. "You have to eat something."

"Not this," Mokuba growled. Weakly, he picked up the entire tray and shifted it over, the broth sloshing up to the edges of the bowl and stinging Kaiba's skin when he grabbed it. "All this food sucks. It's worse the second time."

Well, that was logical. "What will you eat?"

"I dunno," Mokuba replied. He turned onto his side. "Don't you usually go play cards today?"

"Mokuba, don't deflect."

"I'm just curious. I noticed that today is the day you usually went. I figured you'd want to go and see your new friend, too. You were pretty happy when you came home last week," Mokuba mentioned. He giggled a little bit. "He's cute, isn't it?"

Kaiba closed his eyes. "He's average."

"Liar."

Kaiba smirked and leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. Weak, grey little eyes pierced right through him; they could probably see his heart beating, too. "He's interesting, like I've told you."

"Does he play cards well?" Kaiba knocked his head side to side. "Better than Mai?"

"Definitely."

Mokuba's face lit up. Colour returned to him, and he looked like the normal boy that would wander around the manor slowly, playing hide and seek with the staff when he was well, laughing when they couldn't find him in all the secret crevices he's scoped out. But it didn't last long. It quickly fell between a coughing fit and a distant expression, his lips pulled back tight and sad. Guilt.

"You should go and see him," Mokuba said. "I bet he's wondering where you are. Go play and have fun! I'll be okay."

"No."

"Aw, Seto, c'mon," Mokuba urged. Enough that he sat up on his elbows. "Roland can call you if I barf again."

As much as Kaiba was eager to see Yami, he shook his head. "I'll go when you're feeling better. And that's final."

Mokuba pouted. He dropped back onto the bed. "Whenever that happens..."he muttered.

The words hit him like a truck. It took all of his power to manage to sit upright, forcing his focus on the steaming bowl of untouched broth. Right. Mokuba needed to eat something before this got worse. Before Ishizu insisted they hospitalise him because he couldn’t retain fluids.

"Would you eat if I made you something?" Kaiba proffered.

He had to do something. Something would cheer Mokuba up, regardless of how he felt. And this way, he wouldn't feel so useless or abandoning to his brother's condition. This was hard on the both of them. Should something catastrophic happen, he didn't want the last things they said to one another be angered or misplaced.

Slowly, Mokuba looked up at him. Just one eye, darting back and forth looking for someone who might contradict what Kaiba said. Assured, he nodded. "Pretty please."

"Preference?"

"Eggs," Mokuba said.

Kaiba arched a brow. "Eggs?"

"You're the only one who knows how I like them."

Ah. Cooked in the grease of bacon, he guessed. That was just how he always made breakfast, though he hadn't done it for a long time. Anymore, it was if Mokuba specifically asked him on some special occasion. Birthdays or holidays. Days when Kaiba didn't go to work before Mokuba woke.

"Alright," Kaiba agreed.

On his way to the kitchen, he ordered for Roland to monitor Mokuba. After, he went to work, though it was mostly moving through the motions. Gather the ingredients, heat up the stove. His only awareness was the sizzle of oil in a pan. Occasionally, the grease popped up and stung his hand. A small stab that reddened and went away quickly. It didn't feel so bad.

 _He's cute, isn't he? Ha! That's one way to put it_ , Kaiba thought.

Mokuba was being cheeky—but he didn't mind. Mokuba was always curious to hear about the crazy people that Kaiba met with when he played cards. Though he always mentioned them in passing, just to make Mokuba laugh. Now, he was actively telling Mokuba about someone, with the barest of interest in his voice, and Mokuba's impish curiosity dug in.

Not that he could talk about it. The contract had been returned to him with Yami's fresh signature on it. He hadn't chickened out. It was a very real possibility; he had sensed some trepidation in Yami, but then...his display before they parted was so, so tantalising. It still made him quake and squirm. If that was just a 'taste'...

He couldn't tell Mokuba any of this. From now on, Yami didn't exist. He was just 'he' or 'a friend'. Described in the vaguest parameters possible. Not out of shame, no, but out of honesty. He had told Yami he was a man of his word and he planned on upholding that. Even if it meant denying Mokuba some details.

Though the look on Mokuba's face earlier had been something to cherish. He saw it so little. Happy and curious. Somehow living precariously through Kaiba's inept attempts at finding some kind of excitement and heart pounding exhilaration in his life. But then, that's what he had done when he went to play poker, too. Something different and exciting. It had gone boring so quickly...would Yami last?

What if he didn't? Would he be able to find something else?

The smell of something burning woke him up. Kaiba looked down at the pan, now with eggs sizzling in it and bacon off to the side, grease soaking into a napkin. The eggs weren't burning; the whites had barely solidified.

That's when it hit him. Somehow his hand had wandered close to the pan, braced the side. For just long enough that it seared through a cross section of his palm, catching the cotton of his shirt sleeve. He was sure if he was smelling the oil, or the bacon, or something in between both of them as an acrid aroma wafted up to him.

He was more focused on the extreme sensitivity in his skin. The way the heat him him like it was impossibly cold and stabbing, with the occasional sear when his heart would beat, digging deep into his palm and stretching his fingers out. It was so intense, awakening, and he knew better than to be staring at it.

He stood for a few more seconds, challenging himself until sweat collected. It could have been an hour, though it was no more than twenty seconds, maybe less, before he smacked the pan to the back burner. The grease quickly settled.

_What's the matter with you? Look at what you've done!...Look at it!_

Kaiba's hand shook in front of him, fingers splayed wide to show the extent of the wet and splotchy burn. He couldn't bend his hand in, it hurt so badly, though it had probably been the strongest feeling he'd experienced in a long time. The burn was like a colour chart, staring from the fleshy red to a dark and angry shade. It bubbled at the edges, puckering the skin.

Between his fingers, Ishizu appeared. "Mr. Kaiba?"

"Yes?"

Ishizu didn't speak. Her concern focused on his hand, taking his wrist to get a better look. "What happened?"

"I was careless."

 _No you weren't. You were perfectly in control,_ he told himself. And there was something strangely comforting about that. It hurt. Stung deeply, but he knew that he had done it partially of his own violation. Watching curiously and measuring the pain until it became too much to bear. It focused him on something singular, when his head was a mess.

Ishizu lead him to the sink. She turned both knobs, filling the basin with a shallow amount of water. "Here, this should help. Does it hurt badly?"

"It's fine."

He submerged his hand in his cool water. The sensation wasn't quite the same, but just as intense. "Good. Just stay like this a moment. I'm going to get my bag from that car and get you fixed up," she said. She was halfway to the door when she turned and asked: "Are you alright, Mr. Kaiba?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely," he replied. "Stop wasting my time. I need to finish dinner for Mokuba."

Kaiba didn't have to watch Ishizu to know that she lingered in the threshold of the door for a minute or more before she actually left. If she continued to ask questions, he would refuse to answer her. It was pointless anyways. He hadn't felt this calm in months.

—

"Feels weird bein' here in the middle of the week," Joey commented as they strolled through the casino doors Tuesday evening. "Don't know if I can stay as late tonight, bud."

"That's alright."

"You're still leavin' when I am, right?"

"Of course," Yami said. "Kaiba seems to leave early anyways. I'm sure it'll be no later than it was before."

They wandered the casino once they put their name on the poker list, waiting for a particular table with two spots, though Yami didn't know how long that would last. He needed to have a way to get in touch with Seto. It had slipped his mind up until now.

Across the pit, lingering near the doorway into the poker room, Seto stood with his arms crossed.

"Fuckin' weirdo," Joey commented. Yami clicked his tongue, falling short of actually reprimanding Joey. There wasn't going to be much he could do about Joey's distain for what was going on. Seto hadn't given him any incentive to be kinder. Even to Yami he was very dragon-like, though there were a few moments of polite candour sprinkled in his personality. Seto was an acquired taste. Very bitter at first, but he went smooth if you could handle him.

"You're late, Yami," Seto said as they approached.

"Sorry. I was busy with something. Though," Yami knocked his head to the side, "I don't believe we agreed on a time."

"Hn."

 _Two can play this game, Seto_ , Yami said with a quirk of the brow.

Seto rolled his eyes. "Well, now that you've decided to grace me with your presence, let's go. The table's ready for us."

Joey clapped Yami's shoulder. "Imma go play paigow for a while. Call me if anything happens."

"Paigow?" Kaiba sneered. "Isn't that a little above your intellect, mutt?"

"Screw you, moneybags."

Before Yami could tut at either of them, Joey tore away, flipping the middle finger to Seto as he stalked across the pit and found a seat at a table in the middle of the room, situating himself between two older woman. He pointed his fingers at both his eyes before turning them to Seto and mouthing 'watching you'.

"I question your choice in friends," Seto said.

"I'm friends with you."

"Hardly."

Seto unfolded his arms and swept across the floor, forcing Yami to jog to keep up with his pace. Not that he needed much motivation beyond Seto's ridiculous leg length. More leg to worship later, possibly. If he was allowed. But something else caught his attention:

Seto's left hand was wrapped, from the base of his fingers to his wrist, in clean, white gauze. And that scared him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Curious things be happenin’. Anyways, tell me what you think!
> 
> Casino fact: PaiGow
> 
> It’s a form of Chinese poker that can be construed as ‘complicated’ because you have to set two hands: a five card hand, and a two card hand. With the five card hand higher than the two card hand. 
> 
> It’s often called ‘the Push Game’ or ‘The Drinking game’ because you can, theoretically, play for a long time on the same small bit of money and in casinos there’s usually free drinks so long as you’re hitting a betting minimum. 
> 
> So Joey is probably playing it for the drinks or not to lose money, not so much because he’s good at it.


End file.
